#fail to see how this is going to help me. but whatever. its my mothers money to waste

[databent]

mother purchased supplements because she believes naturopathic shit is gonna cure my probable me/cfs and one of them says front and center "120 Vegetarian Capsules" but then four of the ingredients are just various bovine organs. like what even is the point of using vegetarian capsules then???????

[brooooswriting]

Could you please write Leighton giving r some lessons in math cause r is terrible but needs to pass the course

R going with leighton to shop different things

Progressing to a relationship

You can do whatever you desire with this 😅

Tutors to lovers

Every day, your parents showed that they knew nothing about you. You didn't wanna go to Essex, and you definitely didn't wanna take advanced math, but they made sure that it was impossible for you to get out of it. Their demands on you were crazy; a 3.7 GPA was what they called terrible. And with your current understanding of advanced math? You were so fucked, and the person sitting next to you thought the same thing.

“Psst, look. You gotta divide this by 4, and then you have to calculate its root. Then you have 6 as the value of on x.” Leighton whispered to you, hoping to help you understand what the teacher was doing at the front. But the way you looked at her so helplessly and confused made her laugh louder than she intended to.

After class, you quickly stopped the blonde before she could walk out. “Leighton, hey. Thank you for trying to help me. Can I buy you a coffee as a thanks?” you asked with a small smile. She looked at you for a second before nodding. “Alright, then follow me” you walked out and towards sips, making small talk on the way there.

“After you,” you mumbled as you opened the door to the coffee shop for her. She thanked you and walked in, looking around the place. “What? Have you never been here before?” you asked with a small laugh, signaling that you were joking.

She looked at you for a moment before scrunching up her nose a bit and shaking her head. “No, never been. Not the biggest fan of cheap coffee and of whatever it smells like in here.” You grinned slightly as you walked toward the counter, your wallet already in hand.

“Yeah, well, I would have taken you to a more fancy place, but we both have another class in 20 minutes, and a good coffee is like 15 minutes away.” Leighton nodded, an understanding look on her face as you stepped up to the counter. After she told you what she wants to drink, you turn towards the counter again. “Oh, hey, Kimberly. How are you? Can I get two iced lattes and two blueberry muffins?”

“Y/n, it's so great to see you. I'm fine, thank you. How are you?” you talked for a bit while you paid, and she made your coffee, the blonde only standing behind you. “Alright, here you are. Have a great day, see you later Leighton” Both of you said goodbye before sitting on a park bank outside.

“So, can I ask you something?” Leighton asked as you played with her straw. You nodded, waiting for her to ask as you watched people walk by. “Why are you taking advanced math? Not to be rude, but you suck at it”

You laughed slightly before taking a deep breath. “Well, my father took it, my mother took it and my sister at Harvard is taking it. So, even if I suck at it and hate it, I have to take it too. But it seems like I’m failing it” you explained, looking at her for a second before continuing, “unlessssss someone would be willing to tutor me.” The grin you sent her made her smile while looking down at the bench to hide her slight blush.

“You know what, fine. Why not. Come by my dorm tomorrow at 5 ok?” The blonde didn’t even wait for an answer before she walked off, joining Bella on her way to the next class.

The next day you arrived at her dorm at 5 pm sharp, being greeted by Kimberly and Whitney who sat in their common room. “Hey y/n, Leighton is still in her room” Kimberly started but was quickly interrupted.

“Oh my god Bella” leighton screamed from inside their room, “can’t you just fuck him anywhere else? Jeez, i have a tutoring lesson in here”

“This isn’t just your room Leighton. This is our room and it’s made for sleeping” Bella argued back making you girls in the living room giggle.

“Dude, that’s so fucked from you. Keep away from my bed! If one thing is out of place later you’re in trouble!” The three of you stopped giggling as Leighton stormed out of the door, nearly running into you. “Y/n, let’s go. We gonna go to the library or some shit because somebody is being intolerable” she screamed the last part making you laugh.

“Alright, come on. You gotta calm down” you pulled Leighton out of the room, saying goodbye to the rest of her dorm mates. You went into the library where you sat down, and minutes later you were desperate for it to stop.

“Y/n, cmon. You gotta concentrate dude, it’s not that hard” the blonde complained as she went over the same exercise again and again.

“It may not be hard for you blondie, but I’m dying over here. I would even fail basic math class, there is no way I’ll ever pass this shit” you whimpered out, letting your head hit the table. Normally, stupid and dramatic behavior like this would have annoyed the shit out of her but when you did it? Well it was kinda cute.

“Ok, let’s start new ok? We will start at zero and once you’re at one we will get something to eat?” At the word ‘eat’ you immediately perked up, sitting straighter to find new concentration.

It took over an hour for you to get to at least one but Leighton was sure that the hardest work was now done. Or at least she hoped. “So, cafeteria?” You asked as you stuffed all your books into your bag. You received a nod and took off, happy to finally get some food.

Since your first lesson Leighton helped you during class and like two times a week for an hour to four, depending on how fucked you were. And finally, you went from an E to a c- and you were getting even better. The connection between you and Leighton also got better from time to time, creating a strong and unexpected bond.

‘If I have to listen to any of my roommates even one more second, I’m going to kill all of them and then myself”

You couldn’t help but giggle at Leighton text, parents weekend was coming up again and it made her more nervous every day. And while she, even if she won’t admit, actually loved her roommates their chattiness and stuff could get to her.

‘Be outside your dorm in 2’

You texted back, quickly putting on your shoes and jacket before grabbing your wallet and car keys. In the matter of minutes you stood in front of a perfectly styled blonde who wore an annoyed look until she saw you. It was quickly being replaced with a smile as she walked toward you. “So, why’d you want me to be here?” She asked with a giddy voice, as she couldn’t wait to hear what you planned.

“Let’s go to my car and then I’ll tell you” you lead her to your jeep outside of the campus. “My lady” you grinned as you opened the door for her and stretched out your hand to help her inside.

“Thank you very much, such a gentleman. Sooo where are we going?” She studied your face as you pulled out of the parking lot.

“We are going to do something that relaxes you like nothing else”

“What?” She asked, quite confused.

“We are going shopping” you grinned as you drove on to the highway, “but we might have to drive like an hour or something, there’s nothing close that has your standards” her jaw fell as you stopped talking. She couldnt believe that you actually knew where she liked to shop and that you were just out here driving her there.

“You’re kidding right?” She asked, a squeal leaving her when she figured out that you were telling the truth. “That’s so sweet, thank you”

After over an hour of comfortable driving you finally parked your car near her favorite shops. “Alright princess, let’s go” you grinned as you opened the passenger door, your hand stretched out to help her out. “Where to first?”

Your first shop was YSL which leighton already left with two begs. Or rather you as you immediately took the bags so she could look around in the next shop which was Balenciaga and then Prada, Givenchy, Versace, Dior, Louis Vuitton, and Tom Ford.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry anything?” The blonde asked as she could barely see you underneath all the bags you carried for her. At least one of each brand, or rather at least two of each brand. She couldn’t deny that it was extremely cute, the way you did all of this for her.

“Positive. Are you sure you don’t wanna go anywhere else anymore?” You asked as she walked back to the car. If you were really quiet you could hear her credit card scream.

“Yeah, but maybe we could go and eat something at a real restaurant?”

“Sure, what did you have in mind?” You asked while putting the bags in the trunk, the blonde standing next to you. After she found a restaurant she liked you made your way there, even from the outside you could see that it was really fancy. “Are you sure I can go inside like this?” You weren’t dressed badly but definitely not as expensive as her which made you unsure of your outfit.

“Of course, you look good” the smile she sent you made your heart beat faster and your face flush a little red. “Now Let’s go, I’m starving” she was out of the car in the matter of seconds, waiting for you to join her. Once you left the car you walked next to each other, your hands constantly brushing against the other ones. You had heard that Leighton was not a big pda fan so you guessed that it was an accident. But you didn’t pull away in case of this being on purpose.

After you guys ate it was already late and the eventful day was catching up to her as she fell asleep in the car. You smiled at the sight, she looked a lot calmer than most of the time and you couldn’t see one bit of the stress from this morning. When you had to stop on a red light you retrieved your jacket from the backseat and put it over her to act like a blanket.

You carefully tapped her shoulder to wake her up which didn’t work. “Leighton, we are here. Cmon, wake up” you whispered and shook her shoulder.

“M awake” she grumbled as her eyes slowly opened.

“Good, take the time that I need to get your backs to wake up okay?” She gave you a small nod before you disappeared, wondering how you carried all those bags before. After you finally got each and every bag on you, you walked back to the passenger seat where Leighton was finally awake.

“Alright, let’s go” she jumped out of the car, your jacket now over her shoulders and her pinky linked with yours as she pulled you along to her dorm. “You can just put them down over there” she told you as she pointed to the corner next to her closet. “Thank you, a lot. The last days were really stressful and today made me forget about it” you smiled at her, taking a step forward.

“It was my pleasure. Weirdly, I can’t think of anything better than carrying your bags for you” she giggles shyly and also takes a step toward you. Your hand gravitates towards her waist while hers carefully rests on your shoulder. You leaned in further, your lips slightly touching as your hand tightened around her waist. But before you could do anything else, Bella came in.

“Leighton! Guess what” she started to scream out, making you pull away quickly. Your hands left her waist and were immediately pushed into your pockets. “Oh my god, did I just cockblock you?” The dark haired girl screamed even louder making both of you cringe.

“No, no you didn’t. I gotta go, I have class really early tomorrow. Thanks again Leigh and I’ll see you around Bella” you quickly left the room without looking back but you could still feel the blondes nerves.

You decided that you’d talk to her tomorrow, it was late and she probably had to listen to Bella ramble about whatever was going on. So tomorrow just seemed like the safer option, at least until it was later the next day and you still haven’t seen her. It was Friday which meant that you didn’t have a course with her and you were extremely busy. But as you were scared that she might think that you were trying to avoid her.

“Sad I didn’t see you today. Sorry I left so quickly, but I couldn’t stay after Bella said whatever she said. Can’t wait to see you again :)”

You took a deep breath before hitting send. By now you were scarred that she might be avoiding you and that she was actually very unhappy about the kiss. What you didn’t know was that Leightons heart started to beat faster when she saw your name pop up on her screen. She was scared of what might now be between you two after you left so suddenly.

“Whose text are you smiling at like that?” Whitney asked as they all sat in the common room. While she did try to annoy her roommate she was more than happy to see her friend like this.

“None of your business” she grumbled, her smile still being very apparent.

“Oh, I bet it’s y/n” Kimberly shyly added. She was good with Leighton but she sometimes still scared her.

“Gosh, they would be a hot ass couple. Y/n’s hot. Damn you’re a lucky lady” Bella said, slapping her hand on the blondes leg which made her glare at her.

“Remember how I said none of your business?” They all laughed as she returned to her phone.

“Get that, wished I could have left too. I thought you were avoiding me. I’ll see you tomorrow right? Are u bringing ur parents to math too?”

You immediately opened the chat, not giving a damn about seeming needy.

“Ofc, that’s the only reason they’re coming. Couldn’t dream of avoiding u, wanna meet up before math tomorrow?”

After you talked about when and where you’d meet tomorrow you texted her goodnight and went to sleep, your mind filled with pictures of the blonde.

The next morning you were up way too early but when your parents came you had to get ready a lot more than normally. “There you are y/n” your mother called out as she walked up to you with open arms, a fake smile on her face. You hugged all of them as a greeting before standing opposite of them.

“Alright, we will go to that parents thing and then we will come to your math class ok?” Your father didn’t wait for an answer as they walked away making you sigh. You, just as many others, were more than happy about this parents thing today. It gave you some peace and quiet.

Leighton was waiting for you in front of the lecture room, the new bag she bought with you slung over her shoulder. “Hey” you smiled shyly as walked up to her, her face adorned with a similar one.

“Hello” she looked around before continuing to talk, “I am so happy about this parent meeting. I was about to kill myself” you laughed nodding.

“You’re telling that to me? My parents asked about this course before asking about me. And I wish I were joking” both of you laughed before just staring at each other for a moment. In a moment of confidence the blonde pulled you into the empty room, she smiled brightly as she noticed that you happily followed.

The moment the door closed, your hands were on her hips and hers were cupping the back of your neck. You didn’t need any words before your lips crashed against each other, her scent developing you whole. Without breaking the kiss you guided her against the wall, her back making harsh contact with it. “Sorry” you mumbled when she gasped, barely breaking the kiss. You kept making out until the blondes phone started to ring.

“Let it ring” she mumbled when she noticed that you were pulling away. You laughed and tried to pull away again but she kept pulling you closer or chasing your lips.

“Leigh, I’d love to keep making out. Trust me. But our parents are gonna come soon and if I had to guess I’d say that this is your dad” you explained as you pulled away, your hands rubbing along her hips. She groaned before looking at her phone, seeing that you were right. With another groan she answered the phone, the arm around your neck keeping you close. Since you got bored when she was on the phone, you started to lightly kiss her neck up and down.

She bit her lip to stop her giggles, but she didn’t push you away. Instead she pulled you even closer, just waiting to hang up. When she finally did, she gave you a quick kiss. “My parents will be here in 10 minutes” she told you, her fingers playing with the baby hair on the back of your neck.

“Then we should probably fix your makeup and my hair huh?” You asked as one of your hands ran through your hair. When you received a nod you opened your hand for her to give you her pocket mirror so she could see what she was doing.

“You’re a great mirror holder babe” she joked when she was done freshening up her makeup and then fixed your hair for you.

“Babe?” You grinned watching her face fall and her confidence suddenly replaced with doubt.

“I mean- yeah, we are- I thought” you decided to interrupt her as her behavior freaked you out. A not confident Leighton was a new world.

“You thought right, I was just messing with you. Cmere” you pulled her closer for another kiss, that quickly turned into multiple small pecks.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N” your mothers voice suddenly rang.

Gosh, you were fucked.

[yourprettylildoe]

ℒ𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓅ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓁

Yandere!crownprince x mermaid!reader

ꨄ︎ Perhaps one shouldn't fear monsters of the sea, but the bewitching human in front of you who gets whatever he wants.

Was there anything more beautiful? Alaric could wonder as he stared.

Sat on a rock, a mermaid that was you sung so beautifully, that the crown prince was in a trance.

He was decked out in his royal attire, strolling around in the forest near the palace until he heard a voice as sweet as honey and followed its direction.

It didn't help that you were gorgeous too. On top of all that, mermaids were rare, so to see one as ethereal as you made him delighted.

Suddenly, a twig snapped. Your large, fawn-like eyes snapped to his, your voice dying down. A soft yelp escaped you as you dove back into the water.

"Wait! Please wait!" His begging fell on deaf ears and his shoulders slumped.

Damn it. He screwed it up.

"Y-your majesty!"

His courtier, David, scrambled to his side, clearly relieved to have found him.

Alaric's forest green eyes never left the water.

David's brows furrowed, "what are you doing here?"

A slow, calculating smile grew on Alaric's face, "I saw a beautiful fish."

He turned towards his companion. "Prepare the palace to welcome its most precious guest."

And the man knew that this one wasn't going to slip out his grasp.

♡︎

Your breath was coming out in short pants as you swam frantically.

How could you be so reckless to let a human see you? Your mother would kill you if she found out.

Ever since you were young, you've been taught to stay out of human kind's way. They would chew you up and spit you out once they got their greedy hands on a beauty like you.

Mermaids often possessed flashy tails and captivating looks, luring everyone in for all the wrong reasons.

And you just had to sing a melody so loudly.

Subconsciously, you chewed on your finger deep in thoughts. Perhaps the man would forget about your existence.

Oh, but how could he forget you, little pearl?

♡︎

Swimming in the same spot as last time, you had not learnt your lesson. For some reason, the trees loominh over the crystal clear water made the place a gorgeous place.

In your head, you could hear your mother yelling, "y/n, you're going to get yourself killed if you don't get out of there this instant."

Almost rebelious to your inner mother's scolding, you started to sing

Too high on dopamine, you fail to notice the predator's eyes on you.

"Excuse me?"

That familiar voice made your body freeze as you met the same smoldering emerald eyes.

Before you could dive into the water, he exclaimed in desperation: "please, don't go. Listen to me." Something about that phrase made you stop.

"Don't go."

With a soft sigh, you meet his gaze.

A crown sat atop his brown locks. It was sparkly and very pleasing to look at under the sunlight.

The man smiled softly, "that's more like it." He crouched down, his body casting a shadow over the water.

His eyes were curious, running over your body and specifically, your face and tail.

However, he wasn't frightening like how they described humans. He spoke to you like he would a terrified animal.

"I've never seen anything like you before," he said, almost in complete awe. "I've only ever heard of creatures, but seeing one...it's truly beautiful."

You inched closer, asking. "Are you going to tell anyone?"

He blinked. "I won't."

"You sure?"

"Of course, little pearl."

Your stance visibly relaxed. "Y/n"

He tilted his head, "huh?"

"My name," you uttered shyly. "Yours?"

"Alaric."

And for the first time, a smile crept up on your features. "It's a nice name."

"not quite as nice as you." He stared, almost in a trance, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I only just want to get to know you, darling."

And he meant every word.

Just a little more time, he reassured himself, and you'd be his.

♡

For a while, both of you met at the same spot, chatting. You've learnt about each other so much and you've grown to trust him.

You were unknowningly adding fuel to the never-ending fire in him.

After all, the prince had anything he wanted in the palms of his hands. He was born with a silver spoon, everything handed to him as soon as he asked for it. Servants left and right at his beck and call.

Who was going to stop him now?

Humming, you excitedly rushed to see your human friend just like you had been doing.

Suddenly, your heart dropped.

You were engulfed in a web-like material that closed around your body.

A net.

Alaric. He tricked you.

Was he going to kill you? Was this how your story ended?

You thrashed violently, wanting to escape the trap. The material rubbed harshly against your arms.

"We got her, your majesty!" A voice called out amidst the other ones as the net was lifted up.

Surprise, surprise, you were met by a giddy Alaric, almost as if a child getting their favourite toy.

You screamed softly, "what are you doing? Let me out-"

"Shh, shh, you'll hurt yourself more." His voice wasn't soothing like it used to be. "Relax. Soon enough, we'll be together, just like it was meant to be."

Tearing up, you croak, "you tricked me."

"No, I saved you, little pearl."

"Alaric..." you slurred as your eyes grew heavy.

One thought echoed in your head.

You should've listened to your mother. You shouldn't have trusted those emerald, deceiving eyes.

Everything went black.

The crown prince was delighted as you were knocked out cold, though he was temporarily deprived of your gaze.

Now, he had to enjoy the fruits of his labour.

Your songs were now only his to hear.

Your eyes were his to gaze upon.

He can just hope you'll love your new, pretty legs soon.

♡︎

go read part 2!

TY for reading <3 feel free to send requests.

𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓁𝓎

@yourprettylildoe

[finnydraws]

Bowline (B.B/Reader)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Reader (slight jake/reader)

a/n: big shout out to @vivwritesfics who helped me with figuring out the plot in my head and finding a name for Jakes soulmate, I probably wouldn't have gotten back into writing fan fiction with them

Word count; 2574 (!!)

description: Bowline knot: a fixed knot used to tie a square sail to the bow of a ship to keep the sail from being taken by the wind.

Nobody said having a soulmate was easy

genre(s) Soulmate au, angst, slight hurt/comfort, rebound dating

warnings: implied age gap (rooster is canonically 38, reader can be read as anyone 20-25) implied sexual content, rebound dating, cheating, canon character death 

Bradley doesn’t remember when his string finally attached to another person. He remembers being a kid and asking his mom why it was short, hanging limp from his ring finger and so close to him he could see the end, but no soulmate. She would always console him, tell him the universe was just taking its time on his special someone. His mother didn’t like to talk about her own string however, at least not after his father died. If he asked her though, she would regale him with stories of her short time living with her soulmate, how when they first met Nick had attempted to tie the string into a heart but failed so miserably Carole spent the first two hours of knowing him trying to unknot it through her laughs. She would never tell him how when she looked down to see the frayed end of her string her heart almost stopped in the grocery store. All Bradley remembered was looking down some time in his teens, and suddenly having a person on the other end of it, suddenly having a person fated to love him. When he entered the naval academy he hated that string. Hated how he was so scared of leaving whoever was on the other end like his mother, forever staring at that damn torn string and mourning a person they might have ripped from them too soon. Learning to fly only made him hate it more. He was too cautious, too distracted by the tug on that damned tug to fly properly at first. His first deployment was the worst, the string getting pulled so taut that he thought it might cut his finger. His flying got better after that deployment but his thoughts about soulmates were only solidified.

He hated soulmates.

This wasn’t fair. Why is he being forced to love someone he's never met? Why is he fated to think about how every time he gets in an aircraft, he could hurt them as bad as his mother was? Bradley probably spent days of his life trying to untie that cursed string.

You never had that apprehension, from the moment you were born the string stretched into the unknown, moved, was alive. You grew up experimenting with that poor little red string, trying to see how tightly you could pull it, how far you could run before you felt even a smidge of movement. In middle school, when the first boy showed you any interest, you demanded he show you his string before you would date him. And when you saw no red on his finger, you told him you didn't want to waste anyone's’ time when you weren’t destined to be together. Your string only pulled tighter on your finger after that day. To you your soulmate wasn’t the same burden Bradley saw you as. His existence being a gift for you to unwrap when the universe felt you deserving. So, you decided to do whatever you could to make yourself ‘worthy’ of your soulmate. Going to the naval academy straight out of high school and entering the United States navy as an aircrewman mechanical officer and spending any and all time you could doing anything to help those around you. Tutoring, volunteering, anything you could to learn more about people. Anything you could to bring you closer to him.

It was always interesting when you felt the string fluctuate between tightening and going lax on your finger, every deployment forcing you to think of where in the world your soulmate could be. When stationed in a country besides your own you wondered if that string would even loosen. On the deck of the ships you've been on would it tighten as you spent months on the sea?

Some deployments were weirder than others, you would swear up and down that the whole time you were on the ship your string would stay loose enough to slip from your finger if you wanted to. You never tried. On those deployments you tried to pay extra attention to who was on the ship with you, you tried to see if you followed the string if you could find him more than once only to come up empty. This surprised you at first, it's a finite space, surely someone would have the other end, would the vast sea hide the string? Pull it underwater and out of your view, even if it hadn’t on any of your other deployments? But no, every time you would leave the ship alone, not having noticed the string tightening as the pilots took off. Not wanting to think your soulmate was avoiding you.

But he was. The second he discovered you were his soulmate, Bradley informed any friends he could trust to understand his stance on soulmates and created a system. He had a look out at all times, someone there to warn him you were near, or distract you long enough for him to make a quick get-away. His whole system crashed when he arrived back on deck after the uranium mission, everyone was too busy celebrating his and Petes survival for anyone to notice your eyes zeroing in on the red string on his hand. At first, you’re ecstatic to finally have the missing piece to your puzzle, the giant keyring finally producing the key to your lock.

It's only then you notice him actively avoiding you. You count at least five times before the ship docks back in San Diego

The first is immediately after you find out he’s your soulmate. He catches your eye and slinks off in the dispersing crowd, removing his helmet at some point to blend in a little better with the other sailors and pilots.

The second is later that night, you approach him on the way to eat and get cut off by Jake, who insists on standing so Bradley is just out of your line of sight no matter how many times you try to side step him. You don't pay attention to a word he says, you don't respond either, but the heartbroken look you don the second you realize Bradley has slipped from your grasp nearly makes Jake give up on his quest then and there.

You almost catch him the third time, running into him by accident as he leaves the shower talking with a sailor you can’t remember the name of. He pretends not to hear you calling out for his attention. Pretends like you're not calling out for ‘the man with the mustache’ since you don’t know his name. The sailor he's speaking with questions him on it but Bradley excuses it as having not heard you.

By the fourth time you try and get his attention you've nearly given up. You learned his name and callsign from an aviator on deck not aware of his plan on avoiding you his whole life. Bob feels terrible for you when you inform him what’s going on between you and his friend, and readily gives you the information, making a mental note to chew Rooster out for hurting an innocent person, for never explaining himself. You approach Bradley when he’s just barely sat for dinner, expecting him to stay seated at least, but nope! The second you call his name He stands and leaves. What hurt the most was the sad looks his friends give you as you stand at the end of the table, doing your best to keep your bearings and not cry in front of the dining hall.

The last time you count him ignoring you it’s about an hour later, when he catches you crying and trying to pry the string off your finger, begging whatever higher power to give you a soulmate who would love you back. Begging for answers to what you did so wrong to deserve this.

He doesn't comfort you.

After that night you stop counting. You stop trying to speak to him, just stare at the string and hate it, hate who's on the other side. It isn’t until several months after the deployment you see him again, out at the hard deck flirting with a girl in a skirt that hugs all the right places, in a shirt that makes her chest pop. Rooster isn’t looking at her eyes. The brandy in your hand is downed quickly while you ignore the sting of a drink meant to be sipped. You really try to hate her for the way she was able to get so close to your soulmate. Closer than you’ve ever been.

It could have been the alcohol, or the heartbreak that spurred you to find a rebound, you aren’t quite sure. All you could think was finding someone to dull your pain, to be your firsts, to hurt him like he hurt you. Your brain, ever the genius, lands on Jake. Before you can change your mind, you steel your nerves, bee line for the all-American man, and pull him out to the beach by his wrist. He seems to be just as drunk as you feel because as soon as you stop his hands are on your hips, and he's asking, “what can I do for such a pretty girl?” he practically purrs in your ear as his hands start to wonder at your sides.

You aren't expecting your own quiet voice to respond with “take me to bed pretty boy, make me forget.” you lay your own shaking hands against his biceps leaning into his chest and hold on tightly, afraid if you pull away even a little bit you’ll lose him too. Jake is all too happy to agree, pulling you to his truck and taking your firsts, the entire time you try not to think about Bradley, or the red string on your finger shackling you to him forever.

This dance with jake goes on for months, the two of you do on a date that ends at the hard deck, you hang onto him all night while you steadily get more drunk (if this bothers rooster he doesn't show it) and when you feel that the two of you are drunk enough you beg him to take you home and sleep with you. The whole time he does you try not to think about how badly you wish it was your soulmate sleeping with you. After about 4 months of this the pain of Bradley not wanting you starts to fade enough that you can start joking with the pilots at the hard deck, you’re more comfortable staying sober in the presence of Bradley, more comfortable thinking of Jake as your boyfriend. You make some great friends during this time; Bob and you get along so well that you begin Friday night movie nights. With Jake and you beginning to rebuild your opinions on love. You’re happy with him for about a year before he meets Rosie.

There’s nothing off with your relationship with Jakes after he first meets her, he takes a little longer to answer your texts, sure, but then again, he always took forever to answer. He doesn't invite you out to the hard deck as much but then again you don’t always have to be with your boyfriend. You actually don't notice anything is off until Bob calls you from the hard deck and asks you nicely to join him for a drink. It’s when you arrive that you notice something off, hanging off Jakes’ arm is the perfect, glowing woman. The two of them seem so perfect together that you already know why Bob called you over. You appreciate him for uncovering the truth for you, but this appreciation doesn’t fix the sharp pain in your heart at seeing the happy new couple.

You barely even hear the shout of your name as you swiftly walk out the doors of the Hard deck and onto the beach, you barely notice that it's Bradley running after you and not Bob. When you do notice him, you anger starts to simmer in your stomach and you turn on your heel to face him “What, Bradley. What could you possibly want from me now.” you bark at him, not waiting for his response. “YOU��RE the one who didn't want ME, remember? I tried to get to know you, I tried to be it for you. And you didn’t want it. And now I'm trying to be alone just like you wanted and yet, here you are!” By this point the anger in your stomach is boiling over, spilling into your soul and slowly infecting it. You let out a loud, drawn-out groan “It's not FAIR, what have I done! What did I do to you?” The yelling is hurting your head, you thought you ran out of tears to cry over Bradley years ago but here they are, threatening to spill over. “Why don't you love me? I'm supposed to be yours…” your voice breaks, and so does the dam. Tears flow from you freely now and you drop to your knees sobbing.

“It's not you.” he softly promises to you “When-” Bradley takes a deep breath before beginning again “when my dad died, it broke my mom. She couldn't truly be happy without him, no matter what we did.” Bradley begins to silently toy with the red string as he speaks to you softly, like a wounded animal he risks spooking off. “At first, I didn't have to worry about leaving anybody behind, I didn't have a soulmate, so I always planned on flying. But then I looked down one day and there it was, going all the way to you.” The word vomit from Bradley isn’t seeming to stop, he explains everything to you, from how his mom felt after the death of his dad to the fear he felt when he first started flying. How if he flew too far the string would tighten and all he could think about was putting this faceless person through the same thing his mother went through. The entire time he’s tying a knot in the string, untying it, and retying the same knot.

“This is a bowline knot.” he states after being silent for a moment “Mav taught me it. Sailors used to use it to keep the wind from blowing the sail away. I'm not very good at it.” he laughs softly and begins to wipe the drying tears off your face “I'm not good at relationships either. But I'm willing to try. I want to try not to get blown away in the wind.” he inches closer, peering into your eyes. “Will you let me try? Will you let me make it up to you?” you can’t muster up the strength to speak, instead nodding your head. Bradley leans in, just a little further softly kissing you while cupping your cheeks. It's not what you thought kissing your soulmate for the first time would be like, there were no fireworks or life changing revelations. It wasn’t overly Passionate, like you would never get this chance again, you weren't used to the feel of his mustache yet. It was just a kiss, an awkward kiss, but it held so much promise, promise to stick around, to work it out. It was like he was trying to communicate all the emotions he didn't know how to articulate to you. So much that you're inclined to believe him.

[prettypumpum]

Title: Crossed Dimensions I Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: You were living an ordinary life until the day a portal throws you into the Marvel universe. Trapped between an unbearable Deadpool and a Wolverine as troubling as he is charming, you discover powers you didn't know you had and an unknown past with certain heroes. As your anxiety grows in the face of this new reality, will you be able to find your place and perhaps become the hero they need?

Warnings: strong language, mentions of violence.

Word count: 1375

previous part / Masterlist

“How are we going to get close to that guy? Sure, we can’t die, but his weapons are strong enough to knock us out for a while.”

Logan’s question was on point. The further we got into this mess, the more I regretted not staying at home with Al and Mary.

“So, you think our little Lara Croft here is going to save us?” Wade asked, watching me as I battled against the mosquitoes. “Because so far, I don’t think the mosquitoes are all that impressed!”

“I don’t even know how I did it last time,” I replied, crushing another bloodsucker.

“Did you know her in your universe? How did she manage?” Wade asked, glancing over at Logan.

“We weren’t really friends. She was part of Magneto’s Brotherhood,” he answered. “But mutants with similar powers needed to see where they were going.”

That didn’t help me much, but at least I knew now that I was considered a supervillain.

“Anyway, thanks to your antics, we’ve lost the element of surprise. Now they’re on high alert, and we’ll have to wait,” I said, staring at the villa surrounded by armed guards, nestled in the heart of the jungle.

Logan had managed to find our way back thanks to his heightened senses and, of course, the smell of rum. The sun was about to set, and we’d found a spot where we could observe our target.

“We could wait until nightfall to make a move,” Logan suggested, leaning back against a tree and closing his eyes to focus.

I used Wade’s binoculars to study the villa, its dark outlines standing out against the orange sky at dusk. The shadows of the trees danced around, creating an eerie atmosphere, as if the jungle itself was complicit in whatever was going on inside.

This was a first for me; I never imagined I’d become a mercenary. I used to be a dancer, until I got injured. The doctors said it would never heal properly, so I gave up.

When Laura finds out how much of a failure I am, she’ll hate me. The image of a strong, brave mother she had will shatter, leaving nothing but a fraud. But here, in this universe, I had a chance to start over. A chance not just to survive, but to do something meaningful, something right. I could even go back to dancing; after all, here, I was never injured. And what if, this time, I could succeed where I’d failed before? Just once, prove that I’m enough.

“Boo!” Wade whispered in my ear. I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t heard him coming, and, like an idiot, I yelped before my powers kicked in. I could already feel the familiar black smoke swirling around me, transporting me somewhere unknown. Logan’s eyes snapped open when he heard me scream, and he lunged toward me. He was close enough that our fingertips touched, and that was enough to bring him along. When the smoke spat us out, we found ourselves apparently inside the villa.

Logan was beside me, catching his breath, a bit disoriented. Right, no more passengers next time.

“I’m sorry,” I said, panic tightening in my throat. My heart was pounding, like it wanted to burst out of my chest. Anxiety twisted my stomach, and my hands were shaking. “I knew I shouldn’t have come.”

“Hey, look at me,” Logan said, grabbing my face gently. “It’s fine, it’s all good. We needed a surprise element and a way to get inside, and now…”

“We have a surprise element, and we’re inside the villa.”

Suddenly, explosions echoed; Wade was creating a diversion. I lifted my head, and Logan was still looking at me, making sure I was alright. I was so close I could smell his scent, a mix of wood, citrus, and whiskey. Finally, I managed to calm down, focusing on his breathing.

“Feeling better?” he asked, concerned.

I nodded. Footsteps were approaching.

“You’re going to have to do it again. Focus on that painting at the end of the hallway, visualize it,” he said, taking my hands. “I know you can do it.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment to concentrate. The image formed in my mind. I poured all my determination into it, allowing the black smoke to envelop me. When I opened my eyes, I was at the end of the hallway. If the situation weren’t so critical, I would’ve screamed with joy, but I settled for quietly bouncing in place.

“I did it!” I said, smiling and throwing my arms around Logan.

When I realized what I was doing, I quickly let go, blushing and looking down.

“Well done, kid,” he said, brushing a stray brown lock back into my bun. “But we need to keep moving. We have to find this guy and get out of here, fast.”

I nodded and got to work again. The guards were all outside. Finally, Logan and I found ourselves in front of heavy wooden doors. Logan pushed the door open and narrowly avoided a laser beam. I took a deep breath, focusing on the space between the shelves of trinkets and the man hiding behind the desk. I managed to teleport right behind him, delivering a kick that threw him off balance, giving Logan the opening to enter the gaudy, oversized office. But before Logan could reach him, the man fired a blast that hit my shoulder and knocked me to the ground. Too slow, he didn’t have time to shoot Logan.

“Wait!” the man cried, pinned against his desk. “You want money? I’ve got plenty. Or maybe you want something else? Name it, and it’s yours,” he said, visibly panicked and defenseless against Logan’s claws.

“What I want is for you to shut up,” Wolverine growled, slashing the man’s throat. “Are you okay?” he asked, coming over to me, worried.

The wound was already starting to heal, so I nodded, though his concern was clear.

“Don’t ever do that again, alright?” he said, helping me up and inspecting my wound.

“Hey guys! So, what did I miss?” Wade asked, out of breath. “You killed him without me? I missed all the fun!”

“You…” Logan growled, his claws still out as he advanced on Wade. “Do you have any idea what’s wrong with your crazy head?” he yelled, ready to punch Wade.

But one of the henchmen interrupted, bursting into the room.

“Is he dead?” he asked cautiously as he entered. Wade was about to shoot him, but the man raised his hands in surrender.

“Relax, I’m Enrique. I’m the one who hired you to kill him.”

We looked at each other, taken aback.

“I was his second-in-command. Now, I’m number one,” Enrique explained with a satisfied grin, clearly unbothered by the corpse in the room.

Wade sighed, rolling his eyes. “The second-in-command killing the boss, cliché, but it works every time,” he said, mockingly.

I looked at Enrique, confused. “So, what now?”

“Now I take over the business, and you get paid,” he replied.

Logan accepted without a word, though I could see by his expression that he wasn’t impressed with our new employer. The mission was complete, but something felt unresolved. Enrique straightened and waved at us with a grin.

“So, enjoy life! Oh, and if you ever need work, don’t hesitate to call me. Guys like you… there’s always something to be done.” He gave us a wink before confidently walking away.

Once Enrique was gone, I sighed, exhausted. Wade turned to me with his usual grin and a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Hey, we may not have saved the world, but at least we’re rich, right?” he said, giving me a playful pat on the back.

Logan, still skeptical, glared at Wade. “We might have done the job, but there are still things to settle, Wade.”

Wade raised his hands, feigning offense. “Hey, Logan, relax! We’re a team, aren’t we? Well… a team where you want to kill me every second, but still a team.”

I couldn’t help but smile, seeing the tension dissipate. And even though the mission hadn’t gone as I’d imagined, I realized that, for the first time, I felt a bit stronger.

[ollieolliewrld]

Hi!- do you perhaps do HSR angst or smth. Maybe a Blade angst where he gets nightmares/flashbacks of his past life as yingxing in his sleep, but is woken up by reader (his lover, can be gender neutral, whatever u prefer). He refuses reader's comfort, yet still secretly feels grateful (This is my first time requesting smth so i hope u dont mind!)

Thank you for the request, my love <3 I hope you enjoy this!

Bladexgn!reader

angst!

0.8k words

The area is dim, shadows overtake the land as Blade walks down the street. Booths of vendors are left empty, their goods left out to be taken. All the lanterns meant to light the walkway have long since burned out. Blade walks trying desperately to remember why he is here, why he is alone. 

“Yingxing!” a small voice calls out.

His strolled pace comes to a stop and a chill covers his body as he turns to face the voice.

In the darkness, he struggles to find any semblance of life. Failing at this, he decides to move closer, investigating a storefront that has left their window ajar.

As he gets closer he sees the inside of the store has been ravaged. Marks of a sword scar the walls and broken glass is thrown across the floor. His ears start ringing as he is overcome with a sense that he has been here before.

A pit forms in his stomach, and his eyes widen as the palms of his hands begin to sweat. This is fear. Something he has not felt in a long time. 

Blade turns quickly to get away from this place but he is stopped by a female figure, it’s impossible to make out her features in the dark.

“Yingxing, I told you to be home by dark. Sweetheart, did you get lost again?” The figure says as she brings her hand to his cheek, wiping away a tear he didn’t know was there.

Furrowing his eyebrows he places a name to the voice, “Mother?” His voice is shaky unsure of what he is saying.

“Let’s go home now, your dinner is getting cold,” she says leading him back to the street. 

As she turns into the moonlight the indistinct features of her face disappear leaving a flat white mask. 

Stuck in place Blade is frozen with fear.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Yingxing? Don’t you trust your mother?” The figure says extending her hand back to Blade.

Sick to his stomach, he feels a tightness form in his chest making it impossible for him to breathe. The world starts to spiral around him as he loses his footing. Just as he feels himself falling into the chaos around him, he is brought back to reality feeling your hand on his chest.

As Blade opens his eyes he wakes with a jolt immediately moving to sit up and back away from you. His eyes dart around the room and he attempts to gain his bearings back. You watch as his chest heaves, his breath unstable. 

“Did you have another nightmare, my love?” You ask placing your hand lightly on his leg.

Taking a deep breath, he meets your eyes and pushes your hand off him. 

Without saying a word he gets out of bed and leaves the room. 

Worridly you follow after him, giving him his space but watching that he is ok.

Blade ends up on the living room couch with his head in his hands attempting to push away the pain that he felt. How could he not remember the face of his mother? Why did he remember that street? The questions just pilled up until he felt your presence behind him. 

“Your eyes burn holes into my back, I can feel you there,” He says not removing his head from its position, “Go back to bed, this does not involve you.”

Silently you nod as you turn to go back to your shared room. 

When Blade hears the door close and knows that he is alone, he moves so that he is lying on the couch looking up at the ceiling. His thoughts start to slow as the broken memories of his past are mixed with the remembrance of your presence. 

The care in your eyes as you looked at him, knowing that he is capable of killing you and everything around him. Even with that you still stay to care about him, trying to help him out of the darkness of his past. He stays there in thought for some time before returning to bed. 

Blade knows that you are only pretending to sleep, as you always do, waiting to ensure that he is ok before you drift off to sleep. Silently he gets into bed, carefully wrapping his arms around you. When he falls asleep this time he is at peace being able to leave his past behind him.

[fazedlight]

Dread (rewriting of Lena’s phantom ordeal in Fear Knot)

Coolant leak error?, Lena thought, reading the screen. “Let me see if the hardware needs repairing,” she said, unfastening her seatbelt and passing Nia to hop onto the elevator.

Her first hint that something was wrong was on the floor of the machine room. As she stepped over a puddle, her mind caught on something. The floor was wet - not with neon green coolant, but water, in a part of the ship where no water piping ran. 

She stepped towards one of the wheels on the wall, checking that the flow was open, that the gauge showed appropriate pressure. There’s no leak, Lena thought, confused. Then what’s causing the-

“Why did you let me drown, Lena?”

Lena spun around, eyes darting to the familiar voice, lost over decades. A pale dead figure, covered in water and kelp, stared back at her - with cold, soulless eyes that sunk back into her skull. “Mother?” Lena said, trembling.

“Why did you let me drown, Lena?”

“I-” Lena was struggling to breathe, as her mother stepped closer, a heavy sloshing of her dress running across the ground. “I- I don’t know why-”

“Why did you let me drown, Lena?”

“I’m sorry,” Lena said, a small part of her mind screaming this isn’t real, but dread flooded the thought out. “I didn’t want- I just couldn’t move-”

But to Lena’s horror, her mother shifted - a translucent creature emerging from a dead woman's body, made of water and shimmers of light. A creature, Lena thought, her eyes wide. An alien creature of some sort.

She ran.

She darted around the being as its rumbling snarl reverberated through the walls. Lena yanked the door open, bolting down the hall, trying to shake off the unexpected grief of seeing her mother again. A kelpie? A shapeshifter of some sort, her mind thought, racing towards the mainroom. “I need help,” Lena yelled into the comms, yanking a second door open, “I need-”

No, Lena’s mind screamed, coming across the surreal scene before her. Please, no…

Brainy. Alex. J’onn. Kelly. All lay dead before her.

Lena halted as horror flooded through her, turning to Nia’s body, which glimmered in silver. “Nia?” Lena whispered, watching as a million sparks seemed to dance along her skin, from her spot slumped over on the control panel. Lena’s eyes widened. Those aren’t-

A cloud of silver withdrew from Nia’s body, flowing to the center of the control room, buzzing and humming in a familiar pattern, as a voice emerged. “Why did you kill me, Lena?”

“Jack?” Lena gasped.

The bots began to take shape in front of her, a man’s familiar face forming, cast in metal rather than human flesh. “Why did you kill me?”

“Jack, I- I didn’t-” Lena said, overwhelming nausea climbing up her throat. “I didn’t want- there was no other choice-”

“Why did you kill me, Lena?”

The kelpie, Lena’s mind screamed. The shapeshifter. It’s not him. He’s not real-

“Come with me, Lena,” Jack said, as his body began to decompose again, the swarm beginning to float in her direction.

No! Lena’s mind screamed, as she turned again on her heel, fleeing towards the backrooms of the ship. Everyone’s dead, everyone’s dead-

Is this how it ends?, she thought as she ran, knowing she could never outrun the nanobots, or the kelpie, or whatever the fuck this creature was. We all die. Kara is lost forever. This can’t be happening-

She found herself ducking into the medbay, scouring the room for anything she could use as a weapon, anything she could use to kill the creature. Kelpies are a myth, she thought to herself, but that brought her little comfort. Shapeshifters were quite real, and this one was going through each member of the ship.

Lena closed her eyes, trying - and failing - to get composure. It’s my fault, she thought, her mind flashing memories of her mother in the lake, of Jack’s begging voice. Did they blame me? Were they angry? Were their last thoughts-

“Why did you let me get sent to the Phantom Zone, Lena?”

Chills ran down Lena’s spine, as the familiar blonde’s voice washed over her. Kara, she thought, feeling her heart hammering through her chest. I can’t save you, I can’t save you… “I’m so sorry,” Lena sobbed.

“You want me in the Phantom Zone.”

“I don’t!” Lena shouted, turning to the blonde before her. Pallid and soulless eyes stared back at her - somehow indifferent, yet menacing. Lena shook, holding back tears. But I’ll never be able to rescue you, not with everyone…

“You hate me,” said the super as she approached, black veins growing on her face. “You despise me.”

“I love you, Kara,” Lena whispered. The creature was going to kill her. She would never be able to say the words to the real Kara. But there was nothing left.

Kara stepped closer to her, again, and again. Lena held back her sobs as Kara’s eyes turned red. This is how it ends, she thought. I’m never going to see you again. Her worst nightmare had become her reality.

Nightmare…

Lena’s brow furrowed as Kara stepped closer. I didn’t kill my mother, she thought to herself, looking up at the kryptonian again. There wasn’t a way for me to save Jack, she thought to herself.

Kara finally reached Lena, standing toe to toe as her eyes continued to burn. You’re a phantom, Lena realized. Praying on my fears… What had J’onn said? One’s deepest dread.

Like fearing that your loved ones were lost.

And that it was your fault.

Kelly said to focus on what’s real, Lena thought to herself. Things I can see, touch, hear… Lena’s mind scraped at the motor oil scent around her, wandering to the Tower itself, to the cool air and martian steel that surrounded her as Kara sneered back.

But Lena shrugged it off as she continued to stare at the angry super, looking into the still-burning eyes. Lena knew what was most real. 

“I love you,” Lena said, raising her hand to doppelganger, caressing along her jawline. “I love you, and I’m going to get you back.”

Kara’s eyes dimmed, and the world flashed white.

-----------

Lena gasped as her eyes opened, finding herself back in the control room. Shifting in her seat, her eyes darted around the room, feeling a flood of relief as she saw the others do the same. “This is real,” J’onn shouted to the room. “You are free of the phantom's powers!” Lena wanted to cry in relief.

“Well that sucked,” Nia said, a shaky smile thrown in Lena’s direction. “What did you see?”

Lena turned back to her controls. It’s time to bring Kara home. “A kelpie,” she said quietly, her mind drifting to the final preparation needed for the sun bomb. “I’m afraid of drowning.”

[brabblesblog]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 9: No hour is ever eternity, but it has its right to weep.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Astarion and Ban host her parents for dinner.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art from @emy-san

“My mother will pry into everything,” Ban mumbled quietly, “including why we haven’t had any children yet. My father will probably ask about our assets - income, investments, connections, all that drivel.” She wasn’t looking forward to seeing them at all, tonight looming large in her mind, but she knew this would be it - one last time, for closure, and then never again.

They were roaming the grounds; Ban needed to get away from the hustle and bustle of the palace as the staff readied it for guests. It was nowhere near as involved as even their smallest ball - a very small soirée, by comparison; she wasn’t sure if it could even be considered a soirée with only five people in attendance. Regardless, it didn’t require much in the way of preparation, and she knew their staff were capable and well practiced. This was the most nervous she’d been for any event they’d held, however, quadruple-checking every single thing until Astarion had finally dragged her out.

“Gods. Don’t they sound delightful,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Connections? Is it not enough to have the artisan guilds, including his own, in our pocket? Under our very roof?” He paused, rubbing his chin. “On second thought, Roderich would not necessarily be aware of that. He seemed to have rather woefully failed to keep abreast of current events.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The shop.” He looked at her, thoughtful. “It was worn, dusty and quite unlike how I’d expect someone of his proclivities to treat their ‘pride and joy’.”

This much was true. She’d seen the dilapidated exterior, the dinginess inside, neither of which would’ve been tolerated before she’d left.

“And what of your brother? Any snide remarks I should expect from him?” Astarion huffed a little, glancing up at the sky; it looked rather dull for midday, an unfortunate sign of possible rain.

“He’s likely to hate me for leaving the family,” Ban remarked, “more accurately, he’ll be jealous that I left and he didn’t, but you won’t hear him say that in front of Roderich and Arlette. He’s never had the strength to defy them.”

There would be little snark from her brother; he’d always been the least horrible member of their family. Adrien, her parents’ favorite, who could do no wrong, who was fated for more, to inherit and marry and pass down the most esteemed Glasscraft name. But he’d also been her only friend in the family, the only one compassionate enough to help her treat her wounds, to comfort her, whenever her father was done with whatever method of punishment he’d chosen that day. She wished he could have done more, could have stood up to their parents alongside her, but that was where their paths had diverged.

Astarion snorted. “I will do my utmost to be the picture-perfect rich, powerful, aristocratic husband they so desired you to have. However, if my patience fails me, and their necks come a little too close…”

“Try not to, will you?” Ban said, a sigh escaping her lips. “Be good - for me. I just need tonight to go well and then… with any luck we’ll never have to see them ever again.”

“Seeing as I’m the one who instigated all this in the first place…” Astarion exhaled, “I’m inclined to let you have it your way.” He held his hands up, playful. “No biting, I promise. Well, maybe a little, but…”

“Fangs to yourself, handsome.”

A dramatic, long-suffering sigh preceded the playful smirk on his face. “Of course, love.”

Ban couldn’t help the small smile that crept up at the sight of that. “Look. We cleared today for this. No meetings with the patriars, no haggling with Nine-Fingers - wouldn’t you consider that a win?”

“It would be, were I able to…” His hands rose, resting on either side of her waist, pulling her close for a quick, heated kiss. “… do certain things; alas we both know you are too preoccupied.” When they separated his eyes were tender, but the heat in them was unmistakable.

“Astarion,” she began, a little guiltily, “I’m sorry. My mind just isn’t on-”

“But of course! Besides, the staff are still at work. They’ve insisted on cleaning every room - there’s little privacy to be had today.” A mock sigh, and he let her go.

“And whose fault is that? I seem to remember it being your idea to host them.”

He snorted, but didn’t deign to answer.

“It’ll rain soon,” Astarion mused awhile later, glancing up at the sky again. “We ought to head inside. I’m aware it’s not the most comfortable place for you to be right now, but…” he shrugged. They were both dressed comfortably, but he’d very much rather not get his new loafers dirty on rain-wet soil.

She faced him, dark circles under her eyes prominent in the dull sunlight, nodding. “I mean, of course. I can get back to work with the caterers, pick out plating for tonight and the table napkins and-”

“Ban,” He tangled his fingers in hers, leading her back into the house. “A suggestion from your husband, if you’ll indulge me. Let’s head to bed - I can hold you, knead out all those knots in your back - nothing more, of course.” It would be good for her to unwind, he knew; the looming dinner had caused her no small amount of stress. She’d barely slept in days.

She followed him to their bedroom and Astarion sat on the bed, toeing off his shoes, patting the spot beside him. The moment she was there he pushed away her ponytail, pressing a kiss to her neck, wrapping an arm around her. He laid down, pulling her down with him.

He purposefully shifted his tone lower, softer, seeking to soothe. “You’re alright; it will all be fine, and if it isn’t, say the word and I will make it fine. I’ve got you.”

She was silent for a few moments, then leaned on him, her head tucked in his warm neck, nuzzling between jaw and collarbone. She mumbled something against his skin; it was spoken so softly that it took him a few moments to completely understand it.

“It’s not just that I didn’t trust you,” she said.

His hand paused and he peered down at her. “Are you saying there’s more you’ve yet to tell me, or…”

She shook her head. “What I’ve said is about the sum of it. There were specific instances, of course, which I will tell you when we have time, but what I mean is… not telling you wasn’t only because of our issues.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m surprised,” Astarion mused; Ban’s eyes snapped up to his, evidently not expecting this response. He huffed out a sad laugh. “Love. I ate whatever little pride I had left to tell you all of what I am, where I came from. What I went through.” He saw shame in her eyes and aimed to soothe. “No need to be ashamed, love. It merely slipped your mind.”

“It shouldn’t have,” she countered, “I should have known; of course you’d understand. But it isn’t the only thing, or even the main thing. I…” she hesitated a moment, then continued. “I did not relish you knowing I’m weak. That I could, and did, allow those things to happen to me. That I gave in and let it happen, when I’d always been the one to help you, the one helping everyone. I want to be your rock, not your burden.”

A soft kiss was pressed to her forehead; Astarion huffed out a small, exasperated laugh. “I don’t think myself capable of seeing you or loving you any less, no matter the circumstances, and neither is your strength the reason for that love.” He turned somber, holding her tighter, as if doing so would fully convey the depth of his affection. “Grant me the privilege of being where your heart finds peace, Ban. I would love nothing more.”

Tears filled her eyes and she gave him a small nod. “That I can do. Will do.” She looked away, huddling against his chest. “But then… they made me what I am, for better or for worse. Talking about it also feels like acknowledging they did do something right, at some point.”

“No.” That he wouldn’t abide. He placed an elegant finger under her chin, tilting it so she’d meet his eyes again. “Do not ever say that, because it isn’t true, and by no means will it ever be.”

“But they-”

“They what? Shaped you? You are you in spite of what they’ve done to you, not because of it.” His voice had risen, insistent on driving the thought away from her mind. He saw her open her mouth, about to argue, and he immediately interrupted her again.

“Before you say anything else, do you think what Cazador did made me who I am?”

“In some ways,” Ban said, and he found a measure of joy in the fact that she did so seemingly without fear of his anger.

Astarion nodded. “I don’t disagree. But I am also more than that - more than what he made me. And so are you. You, Ban…” He took a breath, trying to find the words to fully express himself and falling utterly short.

“You are strong. You are kind, compassionate. You tried, when trying was only for the foolish and the brave. You gave me a chance. You loved me when that was - and is - an objectively stupid thing to do. You held onto yourself and onto me when I was unable to, chose our love and-”

He heard her whimper as she hid herself against his chest yet again. He gently rocked her, wanting nothing more than to hold her close and shield her from everything. Her trust was intoxicating, so new and yet so achingly familiar; a haunting reminder of what he had almost lost forever. She kept her head tucked against his heart, her breathing slowly matching his as she melted against his body.

“Are you listening?” he asked, and at her nod he made it a point to take slower breaths, slowing his pulse down so that it soothed her further. He ruffled her hair affectionately. “Only for you,” he reminded her, staring up at the ceiling.

There wasn’t any reply, but there needn’t be. The silence stretched, and Astarion closed his eyes.

“This is really nice,” Ban eventually murmured, her eyes half-closed. It occurred to Astarion that she was utterly exhausted; the fact that she hadn’t complained about them wearing their clothes to bed should have clued him in immediately. He decided not to remind her about the massage and stayed mostly unmoving, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

He considered speaking, to say candy-sweet words, but he knew they were unnecessary; they’d long moved past those early days, when his voice was all he could offer her. Instead he closed his own eyes, fingers idly tracing patterns on her head.

Sleep, love.

When she finally stirred, Astarion was still in trance. Soft, light snores wafted down to her from somewhere above her head. Ban gingerly moved his hand from her head, then carefully sat up. The sun told her it was almost sunset. A small wince crossed her features at the realization; she was a little surprised the noise of the preparations hadn’t interrupted their rest. They’d have to prepare themselves soon, but she didn’t want to wake him just yet, figuring she could bathe before he awakened.

She turned to him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed - unneeded, but habitual, comforting. His hand closed, then opened again, as if searching for something; his eyes moved beneath closed lids. Dreaming. She planted a soft kiss against his brow, received a soft mm of contentment in reply, then left the bed, steps as silent as possible so as not to disturb him.

The bath was warm and fragrant and Ban sank into it, eyes closing despite her rising anxiety. Seeing her father was one thing, but her mother was different; there was little doubt she would pry into every aspect of their lives and ask Ban about everything that had transpired since the last time they’d seen her. She wondered what they’d heard of the group who’d fought the Netherbrain, but her parents rarely bothered with events that did not concern the business, and the fight had left the area around the shop mostly unscathed. It was unlikely they knew anything more than what the broadsheets had reported in the days after the city was saved.

Then there were also Astarion’s remarks about Roderich, and the state of the shop. What could have caused her father to let it fall into such disrepair?

“Love.”

Her eyes flew open to see Astarion standing by the tub, nude, a small smile ghosting across his lips. He stepped over the rim of the tub to sink into the water opposite her. The moment he was in he reached for the scented soap and the sponge. “You didn’t wake me,” he complained impishly, working the soap into a lather and starting to scrub himself. “Worse, I wasn’t invited to this bath. I’m hurt.”

She sighed. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself, and I figured you’d need the rest.”

A wry chuckle answered her as he took her arm, bathing her as well. “I’m not the one waking up in the middle of the night.” He didn’t shy from her sharp glare, meeting it head-on. “And what of it? You can’t sleep. You think of them and dream of them - I can hear it.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Ban.”

Astarion paused his ministrations, the sponge stilling against her collarbone. “You have to let me in,” he finally said, the sponge pressed down against her as the hand emphasized his point. “You are trying and making great strides, but you have to realize this isn’t… embarrassing, or weak. And even if it is, what of it?”

“I don’t think it’s…” she began, the lie forming automatically; Astarion merely fixed her with a pointed look and she sighed.

“I suppose you’re right.” She shrugged. “I understand what you’ve said, but it isn’t that easy to overcome years of thinking that way. My mother prided herself on being a strong, stoic woman. She insisted that being emotional, needing comfort was… frivolous, unneeded, and for the weak; that she did not need anyone else other than herself.”

“An obvious lie, considering she wasn’t even strong enough to stand up for her own children.” The sponge resumed its path, scrubbing Ban’s chest and neck, traveling to the other arm.

She scooted closer, allowing him better reach. “She thought the strong thing to do was to let her husband do what he pleased, to require nothing of him.” She paused briefly to rinse off some of the soap. “They were betrothed at a young age, as is the custom. She loved him, at least at first. He… saw her as a broodmare, to birth his heirs. They had trouble getting pregnant, and she prayed to all the gods for a child, to give him what he so wished for. To give him what he’d begun looking for outside the marriage; without her permission, of course.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Pathetic,” he sneered, gesturing for Ban to turn around so he could scrub her back, “to step outside the marriage for heirs is one of the oldest and least imaginative excuses I could think of.”

“I doubt he cared.” The feel of the sponge against her skin, of Astarion’s hand grasping her shoulder, was soothing. Facing away from him provided her with a little more privacy, allowing her more ease in opening up. “My mother knew, much as he tried to hide it, yet she wouldn’t leave because she thought herself stronger than that. Because that’s what good wives do - listen to their husbands and give them children.”

Astarion’s hand stilled yet again and she heard a pinched, aborted grunt. “Again. Like I did you,” he said, tone acerbic. “And you stayed, like your mother did.”

“I left,” Ban reminded, and to her surprise she heard a relieved exhale.

“I am ever so glad you did, Ban,” he murmured.

Her head whipped around to look at him. Her hair splattered water everywhere, Astarion blinked away the droplets that landed on his eyelashes. He draped her hair over her shoulder to continue soaping the smooth expanse of her back, meeting her gaze.

“You thought I was incapable of reflection?” he teased, “Had you not left, we wouldn’t be here, I think.” The silence stretched as he continued working down her back. “I needed that push, and push you did. I can only be grateful.”

“I thought I broke your heart.”

He finished scrubbing and she leaned against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, fingers interlacing on her belly. He exhaled, thinking, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I prefer to think I broke my own heart.” Astarion wondered if he should say more, if more apologies would be required; loath as he was to do it, he would willingly prostrate himself before her if she required it.

“That time, perhaps; however I do feel like I’ve been breaking it again recently,” she admitted.

Astarion stiffened, realizing what she meant. “You have. You give a little, luring me in with a baited hook, and when I’ve bitten, you simply…” Dexterous fingers moved, miming a yanking motion, inspecting a fish, and discarding it. “...pull me in, only to push me away the moment I do something unpleasant or something that reminds you of Roderich or of my past behavior.” It’s not fair, he thought.

“I punish and reward, is what you’re saying,” she clarified, looking up at him. He could see guilt swimming in those eyes.

“Yes and no - I can appreciate that a lot of it comes from your family, and some of it comes from me,” Astarion began; he could feel her tensing and his hands slid to her shoulders to massage them. “However at times you make me feel like your feelings for me are contingent on how well I behave, and it’s…”

…just like Cazador. A comparison that he was loath to make, but one that was true nevertheless. He recognized the way her wavering affection made him feel - the shame, the fear, the pain - and he couldn’t continue shying away from it. Acknowledging it himself, however, was nowhere near the same as articulating it to her, and the idea of doing so filled him with dread.

He searched instead for the right word, and settled on “...painful.”

“I know you need time, and you deserve time,” Astarion finally said, “But please don’t withhold affection from me. Don’t leave me out in the cold, with silence my only company.”

Gods. She rubbed her face, frustrated. Of course she’d been hurting him; in her focus on not risking herself again she’d been too unwilling to trust his progress, too cautious - to the extent that he thought her love conditional.

“I’m so sorry,” Ban choked out, fighting back tears, “I’ve been doing to you what my parents did to me. I know. I… I’ll do better, I swear. This isn’t an excuse, love, but it’s hard; after having all this drilled in by them, and then… well, shielding myself from you - it’s not easy to unlearn.”

“Don’t you think that I, of all people, would know that, my love?” Astarion sighed, but he was mostly filled with relief and elation. That she acknowledged it, recognized it for what it was - unkind, unfair - and swore to change… it was enough for now, especially in light of the past tenday.

“Apology accepted,” he allowed, adding a little pompousness to color his voice, hoping it would lighten the mood, “I’m nothing if not gracious, after all.” But he also reached to her with his mind, suffusing her with his feelings - his gratitude, acceptance, and understanding.

She laughed a little; it came out broken, an odd mix of sadness and relief. “Too gracious,” she choked out.

“No such thing,” came his answer, quick and reassuring. “Just as you’ve forgiven me, so have I you. There’s little need to measure who did what, as long as we both…” he gestured, unsure of the specific verbiage he needed, “as long as we’re both happy, I suppose.”

She couldn’t contest that, turning to kiss a trail from his jawbone down his neck. Her lips ghosted over the old bite marks, setting off a wave of pleasant shivers throughout his body.

“Then we are in agreement?” he asked, simply to ensure the air was clear.

Ban made a small mhm of assent but didn’t say more. He was relieved, but found himself wanting to introduce more levity. He shifted, untangling his fingers to playfully cup a breast. “Much as forgiveness has been dispensed, darling, my heart still feels broken,” he drawled, “A kiss would be most welcome in soothing it.”

“You’re sure you only want a kiss?” she said, and he huffed out a small laugh.

“Most definitely not. Still, a kiss would be very welcome.” He played with her breast, pinching the nipple between index finger and thumb. Scooting back, she pressed against his cock. He bit his lip, appreciating her teasing, but forced his hips to keep still.

Tilting her head back, Astarion met her lips with his own, a soft caress without urgency. He nibbled at her lower lip, eliciting a quiet moan. Hands reached for his head, grasping still-dry curls to pull him closer. He allowed it, but he felt her fingers begin to move towards his ear; he quickly pulled her hand away.

“There isn’t enough time, you’re preoccupied, and as much as I’d like to take the edge off,” he scolded, “there are far more pressing matters we ought to attend to. I would prefer to make love when you’re wholly here, and not plagued by the spectre of your family.”

“So you’re saying you’re not hard right now? What do I feel back there, then?” she teased, hand sinking beneath the water.

Astarion tried to snatch the hand before it reached him, but she wasn’t really making a play for his cock; he was easily able to wrap his fingers around her wrist. He brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss before sinking his fangs in, drinking languidly.

“That’s for being a tease and for being too godsdamned attractive for your own good,” he murmured, licking the last rivulets of blood before they fell.

Ban laughed, rolling her hips back, rubbing against him lightly. “You are hard.”

“Painfully so,” came the reply, huffed in exasperation.

“I doubt drinking helped you any,” she added, very much amused.

He groaned as she rubbed her ass on him again. “No,” he admitted, “but I needed something.” Astarion was mere seconds away from lifting her and sitting her on his cock, but she thankfully - regretfully, if he was being honest - pulled away.

He grumbled, glaring at her; he felt around the tub for the sponge he’d dropped when he’d reached for her hand. Instead he found a muscled thigh and pinched, just enough to elicit a yelp and a little jump; she splashed his face.

“Ass!”

Astarion chuckled, “And yet you love me.” He’d never said it with such lightness of heart, he thought; it was far too fraught, too sensitive a topic for him until recently. There was a certainty there now, of her love for him, that he was grateful for. However he couldn’t fully suppress the lingering question, the question that plagued him even in these calm, happy moments:

Will she ever love me as deeply and completely as I do her?

A question that shouldn’t haunt him; there was no tangible way to measure love, after all. To attempt to do so would likely only end in heartache, but he couldn’t seem to prevent it from cropping up each time.

His silence as he contemplated this train of thought did not go unnoticed.

“Astarion?”

Her hand touched his cheek, and he blinked twice as he refocused on her. She’d turned to face him while he was lost in his reverie. He saw concern writ large on her features.

“I didn’t mean to taunt you; I wasn’t actually going to grab you, if that’s…” she trailed off, “I’m sorry.”

Realization dawned on him and he vehemently shook his head. “Ban, no. It was perfectly fine; welcomed, even. I was merely lost in some tangent of thought - one of little import.”

True - not the whole of it, but now was not the right time for it.

“Then do you want to…?” Ban ventured; he quickly shook his head.

“Tempting, as you always are, but no. I’d rather focus on tonight’s events; there’s little doubt that it will be complicated, at the very least. You will need all your energy for it.”

Ban nodded. “A very good point.” She turned to face away again, leaning forwards in a silent request; Astarion wistfully raked his eyes over her back before he began to soap it again.

Astarion watched Ban fidget in front of him, tugging at the skirt of her dress.

“This does fit well, right?” Her voice was tentative, anxious as she spun around for his assessment. He’d been her mirror since she’d lost the ability to see her reflection. Sometimes he helped her see herself with the mental link, but right now he merely pursed his lips and rubbed at his chin.

“I think it fits perfectly,” he managed to say. The way it clung to her ass was delightfully distracting and he considered saying so, but he could tell she was nervous. Instead he walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to still her movements. “You look beautiful; you always do, but especially so tonight.”

“Thank you, but are you sure the hem’s not too short? Fath- I mean, Roderich would no doubt comment on it, he would complain and say ‘have you no modesty?’ and-”

He tightened his grip on her shoulder and placed himself in front of her. “Look at me. It doesn’t matter what he thinks; if he so much as utters one word that offends you - that even irritates you - you merely have to say the word and he’s out.” His throat tightened as he spoke. How much had Roderich hurt her, in the small span of years a human child had, for her to be such a stuttering mess right now?

Ban took a few gulping breaths, nodding at him. “Yes, of course. You… thank you.” Another sharp breath took her and she rushed him, burying her face against his chest. His arms wrapped around her tightly, rocking her gently in his embrace.

“I shall go ahead to greet them,” he offered, “You can meet us in the dining room whenever you wish.” He slowly began to pull away, but she gripped the lapels of his suit coat.

“Stay with me,” she begged, unwilling to lift her head from where it was pressed against him. “Please. A little longer.”

Wordlessly he nodded, enveloping her in his arms yet again.

He could only hope it helped.

Astarion lounged on the throne as he waited. He heard the front doors opening, the thump of footsteps, the muffled voice of their chamberlain wafting through to him. He stayed in place, watching as the ballroom doors opened and figures began to enter. He’d carefully arranged himself, legs crossed and head resting on his hand, the picture of insolence and lordly power, exuding what he hoped was an aura of indifference.

He let them approach, making no move to rise or greet them; he counted four - no, three - figures. Their chamberlain, Roderich, and a woman.

Where’s the brother?

“My lord,” the chamberlain began, “Master Glasscraft and his missus are here.” Astarion didn’t deign to rise, eyes raking coldly over Ban’s mother. He could sense her deference to her husband; she hadn’t even looked up yet. A short, plump woman, she all but hid behind Roderich as the man prepared to greet Astarion.

Roderich cleared his throat and at that, Arlette’s eyes rose, raking over Astarion, traveling from the top of his curls to the bottom of his shoes. Her eyes widened and her lips parted a fraction of an inch. He knew that look all too well, remembered seeing it on countless faces, every single time Cazador loaned him out. It made his lip curl in disgust.

“Lord Ancunín,” Roderich began, hesitating for a moment. “Astarion.” The Glasscrafts bowed, obviously rather nervous and unsure.

Astarion fought the urge to snap; that he dared address him so informally without permission rankled. He let it pass, however, sitting up, elbows on his knees. “Roderich,” he nodded. He then turned to Arlette, and also gave her a small nod. “You must be Arlette. Ban has told me so much about you both.”

He finally stood, hands casually smoothening his trousers as he did, relishing the look of discomfort on their faces at his words. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he still towered over the pair, something he found immensely satisfying. “Pleased to have you here. How did you find the grounds, Arlette?”

She tittered. “It’s nice, I suppose. Roses were never something I desired for our garden; they’re thorny.”

“They require care and loving attention. Not things everyone is capable of giving.”

Satisfied with the raised eyebrows his comment caused, he decided to take them to the dining room; at least then he could have some wine to take the edge off their blathering. He descended the dais, gesturing for them to follow him. Before he could summon the chamberlain, however, Ban’s mother decided to get started on her prying.

“If you don’t mind me asking - how long have you and Ban been together?” Arlette’s voice made him turn and he crossed his arms, considering the question.

“A year and a half, if not slightly more,” he answered, mind flicking back to the day they first met. He noticed her frown; she opened her mouth as if to ask something more, but her husband gave her a curt shake of the head, ending her interrogation.

Interesting, Astarion thought to himself. He waved a hand at the chamberlain. “Please tell my wife that her family has arrived. She is free to join us at her leisure.” As he did, he led Ban’s parents out of the ballroom.

Roderich cleared his throat. “Astarion-” he began, wincing when Astarion fixed him with a glare over his shoulder. “You would really let Ban… your wife… hole up in her room while you have guests?”

The moment the words were out, Astarion rounded on him, rage written all over his face. His crimson eyes glittered dangerously, lip curling in a sneer. “I do not presume to tell Ban what to do, Roderich. Do you truly have the gall to attempt to command my wife under our roof?”

The smaller man spluttered, a sound Astarion relished. “I- my lord- I do not! I merely say it as fatherly advice. Ban is-”

“Is what?” he interjected, crossing his arms. He saw Arlette open her mouth as if to speak, but she first looked to her husband for permission. As Roderich nodded, she began.

“My lord, forgive me. In fact, may I call you Astarion? You are, after all, my daughter’s… husband… although I notice you do not wear rings.” Arlette straightened up, bracing herself. “What Roderich means to say is that our daughter can be willful. She is prone to behaviors that are unbecoming of a wife, behaviors especially unbecoming of her stature as your spouse, of a lady.”

“Unbecoming-” Astarion bit back the curse forming on his lips, scoffing instead. “For one, no. I am to be addressed as Lord Ancunín, not Astarion. If I hear that one more time from either of your lips’…” The pair before him recoiled, his words obviously effective.

He let the threat hang, satisfied at their reaction, and pushed on. “Ban is willful. She does things that are unbecoming of your idea of a lady, yes.” Those were in fact the things that made him love her so, but he considered that truth something Roderich and Arlette did not deserve to know. “Those are the things that make her her, and you will not disparage my wife in front of me. Is that understood?”

Small, hurried murmurs of assent answered him. Satisfied, he turned away from them. “Let’s head to the dining room before we all reconsider this reunion, shall we?”

The doors were held open for Ban as she entered the dining room. She did not see Adrien, only Roderich and Arlette, seated in stony, awkward silence across from Astarion. She noticed her mother’s eyes, the way they drifted down to her belly, as expected. Sorry mother, no grandchildren here. She quickly scanned the rest of the room - there was no sign of her brother - then landed on her husband. His hands were steepled beneath his chin, but he placed them flat on the table as he turned to her. His eyes flicked to her and for a moment she saw the steely anger in them, but it quickly melted into tenderness. He rose, crossing the room to take her hand and press a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, low enough that her parents did not hear. He kept her hand in his as he led her to her seat, only releasing her to pull her chair out. As she sat, so too did he, shooting one last warning glare at Roderich and Arlette before he waved a servant over to request dinner be served.

Ban looked Astarion over, noting the furrowed brows and tense shoulders, feeling a surge of relief that he was here. She reached out, snaking her hand around his, holding it in a tight grip. He made no outward sign he’d registered her touch, but his hand squeezed hers back. Satisfied, she turned to her parents.

Arlette was the first to speak, evidently unable to keep her mouth shut any longer. “Ban!” she exclaimed, “I know the last time we saw each other wasn’t… the best, but your father and I are so glad to see you again. You seem to have done well enough, haven’t you?” she asked, shooting Astarion an appreciative glance, “And I’m very proud. We taught you everything you needed to know, and look how far you’ve gone!”

Ban sighed. “I… I have done well for myself.”

She glanced over at her husband and saw his face harden further. Concerned, she reached into his mind. Not yet, love. I need to talk to them. He visibly swallowed down his pique, jaw reluctantly unclenching.

That they’re alive at all, Ban, is merely because you wish it.

She couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped her. Keeping their bond open, she continued addressing her mother. “Done well, but not because of you, or what you two have taught me. Where’s Adrien?”

Arlette took this in stride, smiling to reveal crooked, yellowing teeth that still occasionally haunted Ban’s nightmares. “We shouldn’t argue about that. Have you forgotten? It’s uncouth to be arguing at the table.” She paused, and her gaze slipped away from Ban, settling on the empty plate before her. “Your brother had a prior commitment, and we thought it rude to ask your husband to postpone.”

Ban watched her mother rake her eyes over her belly yet again. “Any plans for children, Ban? You’re not getting any younger. I’m sure your husband wants an heir,” Arlette pressed.

She opened her mouth to retort, but her father interjected. “A little darling boy, Ban, would be a wonderful gift. For you two, and for us as well. He would be a treasure to us all.” He nodded at Arlette.

Ban sighed. “Do you harass Adrien for grandchildren as well, or is this reserved solely for your female child…?”

“Besides,” Astarion chimed in, a devilish grin on his face, “I must confess we have been trying as often and as enthusiastically as possible, but alas…”

Before he could continue, the servant returned with soup, halting any further prying for a few moments. Astarion automatically opened his mind further, sharing his sense of taste with her.

As they began to eat, Roderich spoke up. “As your mother mentioned little beauty, it is indeed uncouth to argue, or discuss such… marital activities, at the table, just as it is uncouth to leave your guests waiting.”

Ban could feel Astarion bristle, a vision flitting to her unwittingly: fangs, glittering in the light of the chandelier, sinking into that repulsive neck so that he’d never call her that again.

“It’s also uncouth to beat your children, as I understand it,” she snipped, and was rewarded by the blush that crept up her father’s face. Astarion barked out a laugh beside her but said nothing, his thoughts conveying amusement and warm affection.

“That, I did for your wellbeing,” Roderich protested, although his voice was weak. “So you’d end up somewhere in life. Successful. As you indeed became.” Ban saw her mother nod vehemently at these words.

Astarion could no longer help himself. “She is not successful because of your frankly atrocious parenting, she is successful in spite of you,” he growled, “And did I not warn you not to disparage my wife?”

Ban saw his lip curling again and hurried to interject before fangs were bared. To Astarion she sent a small plea, asking him to wait and let her get what she needed before he did anything rash. He blinked at her, the curled lip trembling in fury before it lowered.

“Be glad she bids me to be merciful and stay my hand,” he drawled, turning to them, “Else you would be in far more unpleasant circumstances than this.”

Ban cleared her throat. “Mother. Father. It… doesn’t matter what you think. What you did to me and Adrien is unforgivable, and if you think this success was because of you, you’re wrong.”

“How could it not be?” Arlette interjected. “You married someone so attractive. Someone rich. Someone powerful. All these things I taught you how to navigate. How to be a good wife. A good woman. How to know your place, to be strong and to honor your husband. Don’t you see? You married a hero, from wh-”

Her words died off as Astarion slammed a fist down onto the table, absolutely livid. “A hero?”

Roderich attempted to explain, “We asked around, my lord. We heard of your rise to power, of your efforts in saving the city from the Netherbrain.”

“Me. You think I’m the hero of Baldur’s Gate?” Astarion laughed, a deep, full laugh filled with levity - but also incredulity. Ban sampled the flavor of his emotions as they flooded through their connection; there was genuine amusement, but there were also much heavier emotions - his profound admiration for her, and his love. More than anything else, that.

It took him a long moment to recover, his features shifting from mirth to a deep, seething rage. He stood, hands gripping the edge of the table, leering at them. “Ban is the hero of Baldur’s Gate. She was the best of us - and nowhere were any of those insipid ‘lessons’ you subjected her to of any use. She picked us up, one by one, led us through the wilderness, all the way to the city. She burdened herself with every decision and every sacrifice that had to be made. She helped each and every one of us wretched fools,” he growled, his hands tightening on the table until it creaked, “and somehow still managed to save your sorry hides along with everyone else in this godsforsaken city.” He glanced at her, his expression softened briefly, the last part of his tirade saved for her and her alone.

You gave me everything, saved me from slavery and death alike. Loved me.

She offered him a soft smile before he turned back to Roderich and Arlette, the anger firmly back in his features. “You have pushed my patience far beyond the point I’d normally tolerate. The only thing keeping you alive is her - I strongly encourage you to quit while you’re ahead.”

This final warning, with Astarion looming angrily towards them, sufficed to convince the pair to back off. His tirade may have inadvertently revealed his fangs, Ban realized; she was tempted to ask him to back off again, worried.

The thought passed to him and he turned to her, wanting to tell her to let him handle it, when he realized. He leveled his gaze back onto her parents, brushing at his suit coat before sitting back down.

“What prior commitment was so important that Adrien would choose it over being reunited with his long-lost sister?” The cold tone had crept back into his voice, his wrath receding behind an icy veneer. Astarion fingered the stem of his wineglass, the other hand idly tapping the table. “Rather rude, when I invited everyone. Does he not miss his sister?”

That is what you wanted to know, is it not?

He’d read the thought as soon as it came into her mind. She’d felt Adrien would be guaranteed to show up; for one he would have wanted to see Ban. The other reason was purely pragmatic - Roderich would have wanted to introduce him to his powerful brother-in-law, establish connections early. His absence was perplexing.

“How is he, anyway?” Ban interjected before Astarion felt compelled to push further. Adrien was the only one she had a smidgen of concern about, the only one she thought she’d have an honest conversation with tonight; and yet he wasn’t here. Did he resent her? Had he run away, just as she had done?

She noticed Roderich’s jaw clench at the mention of her brother. Curious.

“Adrien, well… he had other commitments, as your mother said,'' Roderich stammered out, eyes darting from Ban to Astarion nervously. It was a lie, Ban was sure, but she couldn’t exactly place why. In her mind Astarion whispered his agreement.

She shook her head. “He didn’t, father. Don’t lie. You never were good at it. Does he not want to see me?”

Arlette let out a loud tch of disdain. “Of course he doesn’t want to see his ungrateful sister. I birthed you. We raised you. Loved you. And what do you do, the first moment we need you to do something in return? You run. You selfish, ungrateful child. After you left, your brother’s betrothal became much more difficult for us to secure. ‘Little beauty’,” she scoffed, “You aren’t even beautiful. All you have is what I taught you, no matter what your poncey husband here says. You know that.”

Ban tried not to let those words seep into her heart, but they hit their mark anyway. She felt herself tremble, felt tears threatening to form. No. Don’t. She’s just riling you up, Ban. Don’t.

It didn’t work. Her eyes blurred as her tears welled up, her breathing became fast and began to hitch. She gripped the edges of her chair, trying to ground herself because no, they can’t see me cry again, they can’t win-

“OUT!”

Astarion’s thunderous voice broke through to her, strong and brave and so, so needed. Her home and her salvation. She watched as he stood, index finger pointed towards the door.

“Out. Before I end your miserable, worthless lives. Get. Out.”

Ban wanted to tell him she hadn’t gotten the truth yet, but she was in no condition to. Astarion snapped a finger, summoning the chamberlain.

“Get them out of my palace, and they are not to be allowed back in under any circumstances.”

The chamberlain hurried to Roderich’s side and gestured politely towards the door. Roderich shot out of his chair and shoved the chamberlain away, glaring at Astarion.

“You may be the man of the house here, but mark my words: you are nothing. I do not know what you are, but I know enough to know you are unholy. A monster,” he spat out.

Astarion laughed at this, gleefully baring his fangs. They glinted in the candlelight; Roderich and Arlette flinched and went pale.

“Then you know how easily I can kill you, drain all your putrid blood and bathe in your innards,” he hissed. “And who would believe you? I walk in the sun. My heart beats. I am warm. I am a patron of the arts. I am well-respected throughout the entire city. I am a lord. And you? A sniveling, washed-out guildsman, bitter over some argument over a commissioned mirror. Any more attempts to approach my wife, to even speak to her without her express permission, and I will crush your reputation.” Astarion smiled, all teeth and danger, the predator on full display. “And if I ever hear any whispers about what lives in this palace, I will assume it has come from you. I will find you where you sleep and I will kill you - and I need no invitation to enter your home, trust me.”

Arlette, finally making the connection, took in her daughter’s features. “No. You…”

Ban smiled with feigned shyness, a smile she’d been taught to perform in polite company. But she let her lips stretch further, baring her own fangs. There was a low thrum of satisfaction in her belly as she watched her parents recoil in horror.

“Go on,” Ban said. “My husband has told you to get out. Be polite and do as my lord bids, hm?”

They seemed to hesitate, and Astarion released another hiss for good measure. Roderich finally conceded, his shoulders sagging slightly. He fixed Astarion with one last, terrified glare, then led Arlette out, the chamberlain guiding them out of the palace.

“That didn’t quite go the way I’d hoped,” she said, turning to Astarion. To her surprise he was right next to her, arms already halfway encircling her. He gave her a long, tight embrace, his nose pressed tightly against her temple, breathing in her scent.

“Are you alright?” he asked. The rancor was gone, and so was the smooth veneer in his voice. All that remained were his worry and his concern, her wellbeing his primary focus.

Ban held him just as tightly, hands fisting into his suit coat. It crumpled within her grasp, the smooth silk and the embroidery providing a texture she found comforting.

“I’m fine, I think. Perhaps I won’t be in a little bit, but right now I’m more concerned about Adrien.”

Astarion peered at her, studying her for a moment. Seemingly satisfied she wasn’t lying, he nodded.

“We’ll have to reconsider our approach, but I agree with you.”

“So you saw it too.” She stood, but her husband was always a step ahead; the chair was pulled out, his hands wrapping around hers before she could even reach for him.

It’s as if you can read my mind, she jested.

There was tender amusement there, mixed in with the clouds of still-roiling anger and worry. He tugged at her arm.

We can discuss everything another time. For now I would like you to rest.

She acquiesced, allowing him to lead her to their room.

That night she fell asleep, body enveloped in his arms, her mind embraced by his.

If you would like to see more of these two and their story, consider reading my other entries in the series "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."

I am happy to announce that 'Whither is thy beloved gone?' is getting professionally edited as well. I shall keep everyone abreast of when these changes go live. Thank you!

Taglist: @tavamarie @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decedentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind @pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @@vinegarjello @the0ldman @wisteriaofthegraves @midnight-musings-of-nyx @toni-winchester @icybluepenguin @beepersteeper @hereliesblackdragon @generalstephkenobi

[yello-123]

Something I am just beyond obsessed with this Shauna Shipman being a dog that bites (specifically the hand that feeds her), a violent dog, a losing dog, etc, whatever the Tok Tok dog trend is this month. If there’s an unfortunate dog allegory— boom she’s there. Shauna’s just got that dog in her like no one else before her.

That being said, my favorite one to dive into is that she bites that hand that feeds her. Any individual who shows her genuine kindness, care, and affection she both fails and hurts horribly. Off the top of the dome:

Jackie Taylor- Jackie adored Shauna. Just adored her. I mean they shared a lot of history and their relationship was complex and toxic, but Jackie doted on her and more than that depended on Shauna for emotional support, camaraderie, and idk homoerotic tension. When Jackie’s mental health and significance/popularity began to decline in the group she needed Shauna, she needed her best friend and Shauna refused her. Shauna, finally in possession of a role outside of Jackie (more importantly one that outshined Jackie’s) and weighted down by a guilty conscious, grew more and more distant. I mean that’s just to start, not even mentioning how she emotionally butchered (don’t get me started) Jackie in front of the whole team, led directly to her death, ate her, and then lived her life. How Shauna specifically “bit” Jackie’s “hand” just needs to be its own discussion so I’m going to move on.

Jeff— Oooo I’m discussing Jeff in a serious light the Yellowjackets police are going to come get me. He’s a more interesting character than most fans give him credit for— sue me! Jeff, although a cheating lowlife in high school, is a brilliant husband to Shauna. Like I dare you to show me a more loyal and devoted husband. If you do, I owe you whatever you want from Panda Express. Jeff knows everything that Shauna’s done and still does everything he can to give their family the best life he can possibly provide. He may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but the lengths Jeff goes to are astounding. I mean even on the mundane level, he goes to marriage counseling and puts forth his best effort to keep their marriage afloat. What does Shauna do to repay this care and effort? Cheats on the father of her child repeatedly and pulls him into her life or crime. Essentially it was like “Hey honey, I cheated on you then murdered him! Would it be any trouble to help me do a cover up?”. The man is literally willing to lay his life down for a woman that barely can stand him.

Callie- Speaking of the happy family, Callie may be one of the worst victims of Shauna’s hand-biting propensity purely because she was fucking child. Honestly, I’m surprised Yellowjackets hasn’t leaned into exploring concepts of mother-daughter relationships more because, I mean, look at the audience. That aside, we don’t really see it much until S2, but Callie seems to have inherited Jeff’s unearned devotion and loyalty to Shauna. Shauna straight up tells people that she doesn’t like her child and pulls said child into her life of violent crime, and her 1990s-all-women-wilderness cult shit. In addition to this, Shauna’s worst crime against Callie may just be the genes she passed down to her. Callie, a pretty typical teen, asks Jeff, “Am I like mom?” And soon thereafter we see her shooting a gun at live people. Idk the mommy issues go CRAZY. They also deserve their own discussion post.

Ok, this sat in drafts for like a week so it would no longer be "off the top of my head" if I continued. Other victims of Shauna Shipman's hand-biting habits are Lottie and Adam. Every single individual in this post (esp Lottie, Jackie, and Callie) deserves their own full explanation post and may one day get one.

[annaphoenix1994]

No Stone Unturned

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

To say I was nervous was an understatement - I was nearly in a panic attack every time I got a chance to look at the time. I wasn't a very social guy and perhaps never would be, but if I wanted to advance further into Kiera's life, I had to grow out of my social anxiety at some point. I had met her parents yesterday, and I was quite relieved to see how laid back they were. Her father welcomed me with a firm handshake and an offering of whiskey while her mother welcomed me with open arms and told me to get comfortable in her house. Her father, who goes by Bud, was a retired E-9 Master Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps, and he kindly shared stories with me of his time overseas as well as asking me how different my military career was. I felt no judgement from him or his wife, and I was relieved by it, especially when they didn't ask questions about what intentions I had with their daughter. 

As the days went by, I assumed that Kiera picked up on my daily habits: coffee, sitting on her back patio to myself, and insisting conversation for whenever I felt like it. She gave me my space, and I appreciated it, however I hated it because all I wanted was to be around her at all hours of the day. The Wyoming weather failed to make up its mind towards the end of the year. One day it would be warm and sunny but turn to bitter cold and sleet within twenty-four hours. Today was one of those days. It was now early evening, and what was once a decent warm day began to turn to hard wind and falling temperatures. Deciding that I had been isolating myself on the back patio for long enough, I entered the house to the smell of something sweet, and I couldn't help but follow it, giving me an excuse to instigate conversation with the topic of food. 

I stood back and watched when I realized that Kiera was humming along to a song she was playing on her phone, keeping her hands occupied by taking out a pan from the oven. She had no idea that I was there, assuming that I was probably still on the back patio embracing my unfortunate loneliness. "Bottles and Bibles litter the floor; All night revival passed out around four," I heard her hum, reaching to her right for a bag of jumbo marshmallows, opening them and putting a few on top of whatever she had pulled out of the oven. 

Whatever it was, I knew it was going to be delicious. Our conversations haven't been long in the last few days except for over dinner, but one thing I figured out about her is that she could cook. Obliviously to her, that was a way to my heart, and she was getting closer and closer with every meal she made for me. I watched as she put the pan back into the oven, wiping her palms on the nearby kitchen towel before taking the last sip of the whiskey that was in the glass on the counter, turning around before she noticed me. "Christ, Simon!" 

"Sorry, love," I smirked. "Didn't intend to scare you. Figured you knew when someone was within a few feet of you."

"I don't have eyes in the back of my fuckin' head!" She scoffed. 

"That much is clear." 

She rolled her eyes playfully, turning her head before she could give me the satisfaction of making her smile. "Since you're in the kitchen, you can come and help me." 

"Yes, Officer."  

"Thanks, Chief." She retorted, knowing that my power of authority would be nothing more than complicated by addressing me by a different title. 

"Lieutenant." I arched my brow, stepping closer to her as if I was trying to be intimidating, but all I was doing was using this tactic as an excuse to get close to her, the smell of her perfume luring me in like a moth to the flame. 

She thought she was being sneaky when she backed up against the counter, her hand snaking behind her back to grasp a handful of flour before playfully smearing it on my chest, the residue clinging to my black shirt, yet I couldn't help but assume - or hope - that she was doing it to have an excuse to touch my torso, feeling my hard muscles that hid beneath my shirt. "Oh, you've had it now." I smirked. 

"Ooh, I'm so intimidated by you, Chief-"

She shrieked, laughing uncontrollably as I grasped her wrist with light pressure, but enough to keep her from pulling away from me as I pulled her away from the counter to grab the container of flour that was behind her. 

I got even when it came to little pranks. 

"Simon! I need to keep an eye on the casserole!" 

"Fuck the casserole!" 

"I'll embarrass you!" She giggled, threatening to attempt to restrain me.

"I'd like to see you try, love. I need to get a workout in." 

She scoffed, using her foot to try to hit me behind my foot in a pathetic attempt to move my weight. She had no momentum, and I was by far too big and too heavy compared to her, but I liked seeing her try. 

A part of me figured that she really could hurt me, but she was holding back. I knew what she was capable of and have seen it myself, including when she made Soap shut his mouth. 

I smirked when I held the container of flour over her head, teasing her with anticipation just to hear her beg me to stop, but she started it, and I got even. 

"Simon! No! No, no!" She squealed as I poured the flour on top of her head. "I swear to God, Simon!" 

"Keep swearing all you like, sweetheart, but God isn't going to save you right now." 

She slumped onto her back on the floor, catching her breath after an intense laughing fit as I stood over her, shaking my head as she looked like pre-kneaded dough. "Let me go get the rolling pin." 

"While you're at it, get me my vape." 

"I don't think so." 

"Fine, I'll get it myself." She pouted, attempting to stand on her feet before her sock caused her to slide on the flour against the wood floor, taking me down with her as I tried to catch her to keep the thud from sounding so harsh. 

I fell on my side close to her, feeling the vibrations from her laugh through the floor as I couldn't help but laugh, too. It was a rare occurrence that I fell, but when I did, it was either from the top of a wall or stepping into a hidden hole in the ground. "Oh my God, are you okay?" She asked, seeing me propped up on my elbow as I looked up to the ceiling, the flour that was disturbed after it had settled now caked onto my shirt and pants. I was sure my black socks were now white, but I didn't care. 

"I'm fine." I chuckled. She's so bloody enticing. If you don't stop looking at me with that pretty gleam in your eye, I won't be able to stop myself.

"Here, I owe it to ya - I'll help you up this time." She giggled. 

"Not yet."

"Why? You hurting? Getting old?" 

"No." 

"Then what is it?" 

She knew exactly what it was. She just wanted to hear me say it. 

I moved to adjust my weight on my elbow to where I was almost leaning over her, my free hand slowly and hesitantly coming up to wipe the flour from her cheek before swiping a small area away from her lips. Bloody fucking hell. 

Her eyes flicked away from my sharp gaze briefly, trying to find the confidence in herself to accept it, not wanting to believe it was actually happening, but I couldn't help but think that she didn't want it as bad as I did.

She felt my hot breath coming closer and closer to her lips. When she leaned towards me, I knew that I wasn't crossing a line. We closed the gap between us, her hand coming up to grab my wrist as my hand was cupping the back of her head. It all felt so perfect - like it was meant to happen this way, and I suddenly felt that my nervousness was far in the back of my mind when I felt her lips on mine. I groaned lowly when I felt her arm lay across the back of my neck, gently pulling me down onto her. 

The kiss didn't last as long as I wanted, but it was better than I could've imagined, though I wanted to drown myself within her, wanting to disappear within the confines of her spirit. "Simon," She whispered against my cheek. Her tone sounded serious, like she regretted it, but when I opened my eyes to look into hers, I could feel a sarcastic comment playing on her lips. "I need to check on the casserole." 

I knew she said it to break the awkward tension she must've been feeling, but regardless, I still loved it. I loved every sarcastic comment that left her mouth, those gorgeous hazel eyes, her quick wit, her loving attitude, fucking everything. I was immediately love-struck the moment I first laid eyes on her, which has never happened to me before in my entire life. She had my heart in her hands already, and I'd gladly let her keep it.

Because I know she'd keep it safe. 

I exhaled a chuckle, looking at her beating pulse against her neck. She wanted more. "If you mention that casserole one more time, I'll let it burn and eat the rest of those precious marshmallows that you've been eating that were supposed to go on it." I teased, daring to dip my head down and place a gentle kiss to her neck, feeling her pulse against my lips. I knew it was too early to let it go further than just a kiss, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted all of her - wanted her all to myself. 

I didn't just want eventual sex, I wanted her for the rest of my life. 

"I don't know what you're talking about..." She giggled, lifting her chin to give me better access to her neck, but I traced my lips all the way against her jaw before I looked into her eyes, pleased to see her blush before looking away from me, but I gently grasped her chin to turn her face back to where I could look into her eyes. 

"I'm over here, sweetheart." 

"I know, but... I don't know how to say this." 

Fuck, she didn't like it. She didn't feel anything. Look at you, Simon, fucking fool! 

"Spit it out, then." I replied, mentally preparing myself for the rejection. Well, at least I got to kiss her...

"Can I have another?" 

"Another what?" 

"A marshmallow," She scoffed, winning a smug grin on my face at her sarcasm, which was becoming one of my many favorite features about her. "Another kiss, Simon." 

"Say fuckin' less." I replied, crashing my lips back onto hers. She giggled into my mouth as her left leg hooked over mine and curled around the back of my thigh. God, don't do that. I'll fuck you right here on this floor, I thought as my hand slipped down to grasp her side just below her ribcage. As much as I wanted her to take me, I wasn't going to do anything until she wanted to, which was perfect for me, because I was nervous as hell, and I just hoped that she couldn't sense it. 

My kisses were needy and somewhat obsessive, and she absorbed every bit of it, the slight digging of her nails in the back of my neck enticed me enough to release a deep groan, almost a growl, at her action. Neither of us could deny that we were aroused, ready to fuck each other blind, but we both knew it was too soon. 

Her leg tightened around my thigh, and I could feel the heat between her legs. I wanted to touch her so bad, but I stopped myself. I didn't want our first time together being on her kitchen floor covered in flour - I wanted it to be romantic and slow. My hand was cradling the back of her head to prevent her head from resting on the floor when we broke the kiss, our mouths dry and plastered with puffy lips. I'm not sure what love feels like, but if it's how I feel in this moment - I think I'm in love.

Our moment of silence was cut short when she jolted under me, her phone ringing loudly on the countertop. I carefully stood to my feet, holding out my hand to help her to her feet, "I'm going to have to shower before we go to the lodge." 

"Yeah, I agree, covered in flour isn't a good look for you at the dinner table in front of your family." 

"Yeah? And having an egg thrown at you and sticking to your shirt isn't such a good look either." She scoffed with her playful threat. 

"Neither is not showing up," I raised a brow. "I get even with pranks, love." 

"We'll see about that." She smirked, making her way to the counter to pick up her phone. 

My face fell in confusion when I watched her warm smile fade into a heavy frown, "Who is it?" 

"Laswell." 

[azuremliam]

A little bit of Liam and Scarab's story below the readmore 👍 takes place a somewhat after the Wren situation.

Strong, dependable, gorgeous.

Those were the first three thoughts that popped into Liam's head when thinking about describing Scarab lately.

Ever since he rescued them and their brothers from the bird Beasts, and their mother made that comment of courtship, they couldn't help themself from thinking about him like that.

It was silly really.

…Stupid even.

They pursed their lips and rolled over on their stomach, picking at the moss bed. There was no way such a being would ever show interest in a human- let alone return such affections.

Liam scoffed, and rolled back onto their back. He was just here to do his job, and they were his charge, nothing more nothing less. Hell, he gave them an earful after the last bird nearly crushed them to death.

… "Stop making my job harder for me." He had growled, and they tried their damnedest to ignore how their heart fluttered, "If you die, I won't hear the end of it from my boss. And they're not the type to accept any sort of mistake-"

His hands had gripped their shoulders firmly, his red eyes burning underneath that mask of his. "It's absurd, but likely, that I'd lose. My. Job. And I've never failed any task given to me. Ever." Liam sucked in a breath, but it wasn't from fear when he leaned closer to leer at them.

"You're my-" He faltered for a split second, "…responsibility. And its my job to keep you safe." Scarab made a clicking noise, a sign they've come to recognize as him being on the verge of being angry and frustrated. "So for the love of Glob. Stop throwing yourself into danger and getting yourself hurt." Scarab hissed, and Liam adverted their gaze to the ground and licked their suddenly dry lips.

They were slightly miffed by his demand, they couldn't just turn a blind eye to others that needed help… but he had a bit of a point. "I can't make any promises…but I'll try." He released his grip on them and straightened up with a deep sigh.

"I suppose, given your tendency to play hero, that's the best I'll ever get from you." Liam bit the inside of their cheek and held back a snide comment.

The eyes of Scarab's mask narrowed and he turned away from them, "Just try and stay alive, if not for my sake, then for your brothers." They blinked at that, but he didn't wait for them to respond, swiftly leaving the inn's lobby and marching his way up the stairs to his room.

Liam was left standing there a bit dumbfounded. Of course they'd keep themself safe for their brothers, but- "His sake? He means him keeping his job right?" They mumble to themself. Must've been, without a doubt, about his record of doing his jobs flawlessly.

They rolled their eyes and made their own way up the stairs. How they ever developed a crush on such a stick in the mud was beyond them. …

Now it was their turn to heave a long drawn out sigh. Their misplaced desire for companionship with him, be it friendship or romance, was completely out of the picture.

If anything they were just like paperwork to him probably. Get a gold star from his boss for a job well done and be on his way.

Liam tugged a pillow to themself, pressing their face into it and groaning, tired thoughts relentlessly rattling around in their head.

Once it was decided that they were worthy of being a cosmic being or not, they'd most likely never see him again anyways. They might've seen him as a friend, but with how he acted with them, it wasn't likely that the feeling was mutual. He'd never bat an eye at them once this job was done and go back to God Auditing work.

Unless they screwed up with what ever cosmic job they were given and he hunted them down for what ever blunder they committed. Liam grimaced at that.

"Augh! Whatever- stupid thoughts- stop and let me sleep!" They roughly grab at the blankets they had shoved aside in their tossing and turning, cocooning themselves in them.

They had courier work to do tomorrow, thinking about impossible things was a waste of time and energy.

Liam clenched their eyes shut and forced their body to relax.

At least sleep was always something that was guaranteed…

[psychologeek]

Teaser on chapter 24!

Bc I loved it, and I think you would as well.

Edit: please, please let me know what do you think about this. Comments, #, rb - all goes.

If any of my followers is fluent in Arabic, I would highly appreciate it if you take a look and lmk what you think. Translating idioms is HARD.

Idioms I used/referenced to in chapter:

You play with cats, you find the talons - thousand words.

اللي بدو يلعب مع القط بدو يلقى خراميشه

Literal translation: Whoever plays with a cat will find his claws.

English equivalent: If you play with fire, you’re going to get burned.

Whoever has a head wound keeps feeling it

(I also considered "a book knows its reader" - which suits better to Jason, but is an Egyptian proverb, afaik.)

Darbk 'akhdar

دَرْبك أخضر Lit. Your path is green.

Guan Tang Bao Zi - a dish from Keifung.

Anyway -fic!

That was a good day, he remembers. Father had been away on some mission with the Kryptonian and the warrior. Mother had taken him to an old restaurant, where no one knew them. Where they were just a mother and her son, eating and talking about school or football or whatever American kids talk about. Mother had then proceeded to ensure he hadn't lost any of his fighting skills. He had gotten to keep the dagger he gained in the battle. Yes, he knows she’d let him take it. That's irrelevant. Mother is a mighty warrior, and there is no shame in losing to her. They ate dinner at a Chinese place. They even had proper Guan Tang Bao Zi, served with a spoon, like Mother used to eat as a child. He can almost taste the sugared pear he ordered as a dessert. But every good thing must come to an end. 

And as they exit the restaurant, Mother takes him to an alley. There's someone already waiting there, sitting on his motorbike with his helmet on, one hand typing so.ething on his phone.  “Kiif kaan?” how it's been?  Mother asks as they approach the cyclist. “Tamam,” the man replies, distracted. fine. “Kiif zakhtak?” Mother asks.  How do you feel?  “Tamam,” the man's still focused on his phone. “Wa sahiblk?” Mother doesn't let go. and your friends? “Tamam, yā mama,” he finally put away the phone. “Kulu tamam. lā taqlluqī.” His voice is both irritated and loving as he finally turns to look at them taking off his black helmet, he smiles at mother. Fine, mom, everything's ok. Don't worry. “What will I do with you, Asfuri?” She mumbles, letting out a long sigh. “You kids and your phones.” “Hi–!” The man's mouth opens in an offended scream, but mother easily disarms him. “You are late, Ayuni,” she kisses his forehead. “I almost thought you were caught.” “As if,” the man rolls his eyes at her. “They wish. You taught me well.” “You play with cats, you find the talons,” she warns him fiercely. “I wasn't –” “How many explosions, uh? How many more then you really needed?” The man sighs. “How did you know?” “Whoever has a head wound keeps feeling it,” she reminds him. “You keep looking at your phone to see if it made it to the news yet.” “I'm sorry,” the man says. “I almost failed you. It won't happen again.” “Make sure it doesn't,” Mother is certain. “I will not lose you to such low-life creatures.” But her face are soft as she looks at Damian's brother. “Rukhi“ she kisses his right cheek. My soul “Mi Alma,” she finally kisses his left cheek. Jinsu's face is an interesting color. Almost as red as his war helmet, Damian notices. Mother takes a deep breath, and faces back at Damian.  “Yalla, Habibi,” she holds him. “It’s time to go.” (And if his arms hold her tightly, and his fists are closed behind her back– if he breathsher for nearly a minute, there's no one around to say anything about it. Except for Jinsu, but he'll never tell.) “Darbk 'akhdar, Galbi,” Mother says as she picks him up and helps him up the motorcycle. Travel safely, my heart. (He can do it alone, but her arms are soft and warm and long missed. He lets her help him.) "aetni bi'akhik, ya ibni,” she says. Take care of your brother, my son. “Dayamin,” they both reply. Always. (Damian doesn't look back as his brother takes them away from their mother.)

[dreamsofminnie]

“Ethereal Paintings”

07~ Convenience ☂️

Scaramouche x Fm! Reader Smau

“Hey. Quit following me in each aisle like a lost dog trying to find it’s owner but fails to see how blind it is.” Scaramouche grabs a few chip bags off the shelf and stuffs it in his basket. Not turning around at all to look at you doing the same on the lower shelves. He felt unusually antsy when you were around after that incident. He just couldn’t feel himself pull away from your energy.

“Excuuse you Mr.grumpypants. I just so happen to have to go to your aisles too for my friends snacks.” The light and warm tone of yours was equivalent to the giddy smile on your face. It made Scara’s head float. Bubbling in the deep pits of his stomach he tuned it out; walls upon walls built around himself.

“Don’t call me that” He grumbled as he sped to another aisle as you quickly followed behind like a chick following its mother. Your interest in him visible to the bare eyes.

“Can I call you Scara then??” You busied your focus in nervousness; and grabbed the peach ramune and blueberry ramune for Ayaka from the top shelf.

The cog wheels in his head churned frantically, but he casually played it of by crouching down searching for canned bubble milk tea. Bottles clinked from each other as he shifted them to look for more. The shifting of the drinks was the only noise between the two of you for those seconds. Finding the matcha one, he stood back up to your awaiting answer.

“Fine. Do whatever” He couldn’t miss the sparkle in your eyes when his answer was received. “You said do whatever so give me your phone number! Only Kazuha gave me his when we first studied!”

Scara led them to the cash register, too preoccupied in paying to listen to you—he was definitely playing hard to get to you.

“I swear! I will spam you on twitter till you give those numbers to me.”

“Try me.” You scoff as Scaramouche paces out of the door leaving you at the register to pay so you couldn’t run after him. He didn’t want to get caught in your web of interest. He didn’t want to lose his resolve of independence on himself—lost to the wonders of love and weakness.

Halfway down the block he realizes,

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Synopsis-> When you were required to help the new transfer student the history of art from the two weeks he missed. He didn’t know you were the one artist he was inspired by. You grow fond of each other but stay at a flirting stage. But finding out that he’s a dreaded a.i user; your mortal art enemy; everything in your relationship is obliterated. Will he be able to reconcile and steal your he-art♡ once again?

Going to change Venti’s iMessage name to Drunk on life

//Taglist//

@akagism2 @pokidot @kyouzki @rmiyuki @infe-risk0 @sakurapeach @bluebelony @kichiyoshi @mikctp @kur44pika @cupids-chamber @aeongiies @crucnhice @neigesprincess @scaramoo @gojoandelsalovechilde @childeslegstrap @sakiimeo @d4y-dr3am3r @m3gitsune

[lanitalay]

Among Flames and Starlight Chapter 9

a/n: lets all take a collective cleansing breath and enjoy this chapter, its a good time

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 3.2k

Other Chapters

“And one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.” Irene counted to the rhythm and watched her little students move to the beat. “Good, take a water break and we’ll finish up the dance.” 

She had begun giving the children of Jesminda’s village classes a few months ago. The unexpected visit to Velaris reminded her of what she loved about living there and, while a small village in Autumn was not the same as the bustling city, she was determined to make it a better place to live, in whatever way she could. Jesminda and Lucien helped her fix up an abandoned barn to offer the classes and after a slow first few weeks, she had a couple of dozen regular students. 

“Alright children, positions!” The pitter patter of their tiny feet never failed to make her smile. “Hands up! And one, two, three, four, hands down, six, seven, eight. We do that two more times then go back to the pirouette.”  

“They’re looking so good!” Jesminda compliments as she helps Irene sweep the barn floor. 

“They have improved so much in the last few weeks, I think they’re really excited about the recital.” Irene is closing up the windows and doors so that no woodland creature makes a home out of her makeshift studio.

“Even Lucien is excited for the recital, we don’t have much entertainment here other than who’s sleeping with who. By the way, did you see how little Mae’s mother kept eyeing you? She looked just about ready to take a bite.” 

Irene laughs, which she frequently did with Jesminda “she was doing no such thing.” 

“Oh yes she was, next time I catch her I’ll send you a signal.” 

“Are you ready to go?” Lucien asks from the main doors. 

“Honey, help Irene with the windows, will you?” 

Lucien nods and holds up large square pieces of plywood against the window opening while Irene bolts them down. “Let me get my things and we can go.”  

Irene and Lucien dropped off Jesminda at her cottage before returning to the Forest House. On the ride back they stopped at a creek to water the horses. “You seem… better. I mean, better than when you first got here.” 

She was petting her horse and gave him a hint of a smile “I’m feeling better, I kind of forgot how much I enjoy dancing. Victoria and I have taken lessons all our lives.” 

“Well, I’m glad. This version of you is much better than corpse bride.” 

“Hey!” She said and kicked some water his way.

“Just being honest.” 

“Let’s go back to the house, I’m hungry.”

The pair left the horses in the stables and went to Mora’s wing of the house where they usually had dinner. Typically it was just the three of them, but today Eris was sitting at the table talking with his mother. 

“Hello,” Lucien greeted Mora with a kiss and his brother with a punch in the shoulder. 

“Manners, Lucien!” 

Eris smirked as his brother gave them an unconvincing “sorry.” 

“Irene, please tell me he acts civilized when you two are out.”

Lucien sits down next to Mora and Irene resolves to sit next to Eris. “He’s the perfect gentleman.” 

“You don’t have to cover for him.” Eris teases. 

“Well, there was one time he spooked my horse on purpose and it threw me off…” she couldn’t help the smile on her face as she finally got to throw him to the wolves. After that fall her back was sore for days. 

“Good gods! We are going to have a long talk, Lucien. Tomorrow morning you are to report here.”  

“Yes ma'am.” He conceded. 

“What is it that you two do anyways?” Eris asked, beginning to cut into the filet served for dinner. Irene picked up her own cutlery and sent a questioning glance to Lucien, not sure what she should answer. He shrugged. 

“Well, I’ve been teaching dance lessons to some children from the nearest village. Most days Lucien accompanies me.” Eris and Mora shared a surprised look. 

“You didn’t know?” He asked his mother, since she saw his wife more than he did. “Not a clue.” 

“Let’s have this stay between us, please.” 

“Don’t worry dear, we won’t tell a soul outside this room.” 

The rest of the meal went by in pleasant conversation. Irene looked around and realized that breathing felt natural again. The months of shock, grief and trauma still lingered. She doubted they could ever be erased. But in this moment, in this room, with these people, life did not feel like an inescapable prison. 

The next morning Irene was back in the stables, she didn’t have class but the day was beautiful and she thought it would be a shame to spend it inside. She was getting her horse ready when a loud rustle of leaves caught her attention. Coming out of the forest was Eris. She squinted as she saw movement around him. A pack of hounds were running along his side and nipping each other as they chased a stick he threw. One of the hounds got too far and Eris called him back with a whistle. How had she never known he had dogs? Making sure the stable gate was closed, she walked over to where he now stood, throwing pieces of meat to the canines that followed his command to “sit.”

“Do they have names?” 

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Yes.”

“Well, what are they?” 

“If you really want to know, you can read their collars.” 

“Do they bite?” Eris only smirked. “They don’t usually interact with strangers.”

Irene rolled her eyes and looked at the dogs, there were six in total, each a different shade of brown. Their tails were stilled and ears pointed, not used to hearing a female voice. Two had their tongues out, doe eyes focused on Eris’ hand where he held more treats. Adorable. 

Irene deemed their cuteness a testament to their good behavior. So with a few careful steps she got closer to them and extended a tentative hand. They remained seated, the one nearest to her inched forward his nose and sniffed her palm. Then she reached for the top of his head and pet him softly. Irene turned her head to give Eris a gloating look and when she turned back the hound had opened its mouth all the way. The princess of Autumn let out a blood curdling scream as she threw herself back and covered her face with both arms, bracing for an attack that never came. 

“He was yawning, Irene.” 

Scrambling to her feet as quickly as she could she lunged towards Eris, “why would you do that?!” She shoved at his chest and at that one of the hounds barked. 

“I didn’t do anything.”

“They could have attacked me!”

“They are well trained.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Mulligan, Shaw, Monty, Elma, Crusty, and Cricket those are their names.” 

Irene put the strands that had broken loose from her braid behind her ear and crossed her arms at her chest. “Which one is Elma?” 

“Her,” he pointed to the hound in the middle. Chocolate brown and splattered in white dots. She looked like someone spilled white paint on her. 

“She 's cute.” 

“She is a bloodhound capable of tracking a scent for miles and has been known to take down deer twice her size. Cute is not the word I would use to describe her.”

“Where do you keep them anyway? I’ve never seen them around the house.” 

He throws a few more treats their way, which are caught effortlessly in the air. “There's a cabin through there” he pointed toward the opening in the forest he had walked through moments before. “It’s about a mile and a half away, they live there. Some of the ground’s keepers watch them when I can’t.” 

“I would have never guessed you had pets.” 

“I don’t consider them pets.”

“Sure, Crusty there looks like a killing machine.” Eris stared flatly at her “I didn’t name them, my brothers did, when they were younger. Hugo was about four or five and he would only eat the crust from any pie, it didn’t matter the filling. So when I showed him the pup he named it after his favorite food.” 

Eris showed a hint of a smile at the memory and Irene felt a pang in her chest. The middle brothers were always skulking around the house, or in private meetings with Beron. Irene made it a point to never be caught in their path. Not after they were audience to her pre-wedding hazing. The handprint on her ribs had faded, in a few months nothing would be left of the threat Beron seared on her skin. 

She stayed silent for longer than she should have. “I should get going, I want to ride for a while before lunch.” 

Eris nodded and waved her off as he went back into the forest, hounds at his heels. 

Irene was in Mora’s wing, sulking. Autumn showers had turned into torrential rain making it impossible to ride into the village. The paths too narrow and muddy. Her stomach sank as she pictured her students waiting for her. The recital was less than a week away and every practice leading up to it was crucial for their confidence. 

“I feel terrible.”  Irene fell into one of the armchairs near the hearth. “It will be fine, dear. Missing one day won't hurt anybody. But going out in this weather will.” 

“Do you know where Lucien is? Maybe he can winnow me.”

“Lucien is helping in the kitchens and is not allowed to leave the house until he behaves himself.” 

“Oh.” 

“If Beron finds out about his behavior the consequences will be worse.”

“I understand.” 

“That’s what happened with my other boys, they were being rebellious as many young fae get around this age but Beron got to them before I-” the door opened and Mora quickly shifted all of her attention to the sweater she was knitting. 

She relaxed when she saw it was Eris. “Honey, what a lovely surprise! I thought you were gone until tomorrow.”

He kissed her cheek and nodded towards Irene as a greeting. “The trip got cut short because of the weather.”

“It really is coming down out there. Better you stay inside until it clears up.” 

“Lucien?” Mora sighed, “I was just telling Irene that he’s helping in the kitchens.” 

“Oh right, I heard chaos from the pantry. What about you?”

Irene was attempting to knit a scarf, Mora was teaching her but it did not come easy to the witchling.

“I’m making a scarf.” 

“I don’t think you are.”

“Be nice, she’s learning.”

“Yeah Eris, be nice.” Irene stuck out her tongue to him and he rolled his eyes, 

“Your stitches are too tense, the scarf is going to be uneven.” He observed. “You know about knitting?” 

“Yes-”

“I taught Eris when he was little,  on rainy days like these we would knit for hours. I still have the first thing he ever made. It’s a single chain and he attached some eyes to it and named it Snakey.”

“Mother, please-”

“I’ll go get it!” Mora got up from her seat and went into the next room. Irene smiled as she heard the Lady rifling through boxes of old memories. 

“A male of many talents.”

“You could say I’ve been blessed by the Mother and the gods.” Irene snorted “Whoever it was did not make you humble."

“Here it is!” Mora came back with a tattered old thing. It looked like it could turn to dust if she set it down wrong. “Oh my… this is quite something.”

“It is not as pretty as it used to be, Eris carried it around until he was twelve. He would take it everywhere.” Irene laughed at the stringy toy.

“It… I bet you had a lot of fun.” She wanted so badly to say it was the ugliest thing she had ever seen, but Mora looked so happy and proud of what her firstborn had made that she could not insult it in her presence. 

The next day the rain lessened, but there was a persistent drizzle that kept the terrain slippery. She sighed loudly, settled on going  to the library and read. “You seem to be everywhere these days.” 

Eris looked up from the book he was reading and raised a sharp brow. “Hello, Irene.” 

The princess of Autumn wandered around the shelves until something caught her eye, then she joined the eldest Vanserra in the small alcove. “I can’t believe it’s still raining and Lucien still can’t leave the house.” Irene huffed as she found a comfortable position and opened the book. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

She closed the book. “I have the dance lessons in the village and the recital is so soon and if it keeps raining like this I won’t be able to go, Lucien can’t winnow me-”

“I can take you.” 

She looked at him, mouth pursed in a quizzical frown. “You can?” 

“Yes.” 

“Right now?” 

“Well I’m reading right now-”

“You can bring the book, let's go.” She stood and discarded her own selection on the floor. Then looked at Eris expectantly. “Come on, I’m sure that I’ll have to clean up the studio and that will take time.” 

“Fine.” 

She reached out a hand to help him stand and once he straightened they were in front of the barn. Irene quickly opened the door and closed it as soon as they were in to keep the rain out. The inside looked good enough, there were some puddles here and there but nothing grave. 

“Thank the Mother we boarded up the windows.” Irene quickly located a mop and began working on the stagnant water. Eris was quietly scoping out the place she had turned into a half decent studio. There were no mirrors or bars and the floor was not completely level and smooth but it was warm and spacious enough to dance comfortably. She had painted musical notes and dancing figures along the walls. There was a console piano covered with sheets of protective fabric and racks of little clothes lined up near the back. 

“How long did it take to fix this place up?” 

“Probably a month, Lucien helped with the heavy stuff and… someone from the village helped me paint and clean.”

“And the piano?” 

“Oh, that was also Lucien, I don’t have a clue where he got it from. One of the parents typically plays the music.”

“And the clothes?”

“Those are the costumes! One of the moms is a seamstress and she volunteered to make them.” 

Eris looked around and put his hands on his hips. “Irene, this is impressive.”

“Oh, thanks?” 

“I mean it.” He scans the studio again as if to make sure they are alone then steps closer to her. When he speaks again it's barely audible “I think… This court needed a project like this.” 

“Eris, you're scaring me.”

“I’m being nice.”

“That’s not like you.”

“Is there another mop?” Irene almost reached out to make sure he didn’t have a fever. “You can read your book or just come back in a few hours. No need for-” 

“Yes or no?” She pointed to a skinny, rickety door “there’s another one in there.” 

Eris opened the deteriorated door and added it to the mental list he was making of things that needed improvement in this studio. The floors had to take priority, they were far too splintery to properly learn to dance. Then he began mopping up the other large puddle. The barn had a good structure and the roof wasn’t leaking anywhere, the windows must be the problem. Once he finished with the puddle he inspected every window and confirmed that there were crevices where water was filtering through. 

“These windows need to be replaced.” 

“I don’t have the means to replace them yet-”

“Yes you do, you receive a salary for holding your position.” 

“I do?”

“Yes, I’ll show you how to access it back at the house.” 

About an hour later a few students showed up, only the ones that lived within walking distance since the roads and paths were still dangerous. Irene decided to give the four students that showed up a waltz lesson. They paired up and she began showing them how to do a basic box step. 

“If you are leading, begin by stepping forward with your left foot. If you are following, you take a step back with your right foot.”

“Like this teacher?” The kids both stepped forward and bumped their foreheads together.

“Uhm no. Which one of you wants to lead?” Both of them raised their hands. “Why don’t you lead first and then you can switch, alright?” 

“Stand up straight and one-”  

After a few attempts the kids were still not understanding the flow of the dance. Irene tried to explain that the steps were fluid and not stomps but they kept stepping on each other’s toes and tensions were running high. At the beginning of the lesson, Eris was reading behind the racks of clothes, not wanting to interrupt with his presence. But after hearing the commotion he peaked out his head in curiosity. He could not deny that Irene looked comical trying to explain the nuances of a dance to little kids. “It’s more than a dance, it's learning how to work together!” She exclaimed at one point, attempting to raise morale, to no avail. 

“Ok watch me again” and began to do the waltz by herself at which point Eris stepped out “I can help demonstrate.” The students and the parent who was playing the piano went still as they saw the heir of Autumn in their clandestine dance studio. 

“Oh, that would be helpful.” He walked over and placed his right hand on her back. “Notice how his elbow doesn’t drop.” Then Irene put her left hand on his shoulder and placed her other hand in his. The piano began a simple melody and Eris led Irene around the room in the box step. “See how Mr. Vanserra isn’t looking at his feet.” 

He was looking at her, into her eyes. She couldn’t look away. Suddenly remembering how handsome he was. How, when she first saw him in Adriata, she longed to be his sole focus, if only for a moment. She was counting in her head how many rounds they had done but after the third one lost track because Eris spun her toward him so she ended up with her back facing his front. She could feel his warm breath on her neck and nearly forgot where they were, her face turning a shade of red. 

Then he spun her to face him again. His grip on her back was a little bit tighter, as if he needed to make sure she wouldn’t step away. The music faded and the pair disentangled. “Thank you, Eris. See students?” She continued her explanation and then the kids tried to imitate them. “Much better!” 

Eris was watching, hands in the pockets of his pants, trying to settle the pounding in his chest. 

taglist: @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams 

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

Hello! I just saw the ask and your response about Nesta and Feyre pregnancy and how now Nesta is the new scapegoat (I'm sure with the new book, Tamlin and her will go hip to hip with that role :/ ) And the thing I want to say is, to the stan who said "threw a miscarriage in feyre's face" is the fact that the only reason she even faced that (when it's clear thats all they care about), the only one responsible for that possibility was not Nesta, who revealed this information to her (in whatever way she wanted/did etc), no. The one responsible is Rhysand. The 500-year-old HL, KNEW what a pregnancy, an Illyrian baby/pregnancy, would do to a body that was not ready to carry a baby with wings. He knew, and he did nothing to prevent that. Let me repeat: he never discussed anything with Feyre. Nothing, nada, no words, about this. Maas told us, repeatedly, that pregnancies in the fae world are rare and "delicate" (except for the Autumn court it seems or for the spring court, since Tamlin had different brothers) and he never, not once, took precautions or had a discussion with her mate, to who he is bound forever (in every sense, when one of them dies it over for both). Then Feyre is pregnant, and what does he do? N O T H I N G. He doesn't tell her (a right that she owns to have, it's her body, her baby, her life, everything) he literally lets her live in an isolated bubble - literally, since no one can even touch her, except him - but still, he needs to let everyone know that she is with child (HIS child) knowing that he's dooming her, both of them really and the baby at the same time. He knew there was a real possibility of a threat, but he didn't inform his mate of the possibility of it and then "he tried" to find a solution that wasn't there, except for the fact that putting my tin hat on I do believe Rhys tried really hard to break Nesta, mentally and emotionally, so that, when the time came, she would help her sister (Him) and in that way she would lose the power he so feared/hated. This whole plot made no sense and it only showed me how, despite everything Maas tries to tell us, Rhysand doesn't really care about Feyre: he doesn't care about her wants, what she thinks, about her persona as a whole. Her agency? It should be HIS. She's now truly a puppet in his hands, something he remade to love him without questions. He made sure to conform everyone around him so. Do I really think Nyx will be their only child? No. The stans lament that it was Tamlin the one who would reduce her to only be a wife and baby machine, while there is Rhysand here who made Feyre High Lady (only in name), and now she has already a baby, she is a mother and… it's so sad, because she could've been so much more, she should've had the time to knew her new self, her new life, her body. She had a right to know about the risk. She had a right to even her own suffering, to know what her pregnancy could do, to grieve herself and her baby. To try, to decide to find a solution, and even to fail. But, to all, she deserved to know from the beginning what that kind of pregnancy was, of its risks. Rhysand should've done so much more, and seeing people pointing fingers elsewhere is just… upsetting. He should've taught her so much more about the court, about the Illyrians (about the fact of how offensive she was when she "grew" their wings) and he should have let her live her life. But that was not what he wanted to do. Maas said he is "perfect, a good guy, the strongest, the best of them all" but her writing shows differently. I'm so sorry about this rant (that is probably more of a babbling/rambling, sorry, I wrote everything at the moment and feels) but I feel angry about these topics so much. Hope it didn't bother you too much, and hope you're having a good day/night! <3

i’m not bothered at all, nonny, this was great!! and yes! rhys never informs feyre of the risks!!!!! actually thank you for reminding me. in acosf when cassian is telling nesta about the whole thing, he says everyone in the night court knew what it meant for a high fae female to birth illyrian children, death. everyone including rhysand. when feyre brought up the idea of having kids, not once did he sit her down and properly inform her of what it meant. i think ppl don’t bring this up often because nyx having wings is explained with feyre cosplaying an illyrian during sex, but regardless, there was still a chance of nyx having wings because of rhys, and feyre was never informed of this, by anyone, even prior to majda. none of them heard the news and went, wait, this could be fatal considering literally almost every single mother died and the ones that didn’t were never the same. he gets her pregnant knowing this, and doesn’t care. and i love your tinfoil theory! i’ve always thought that the stupid plot served two purposes; a) to have a way of stripping nesta of her powers because sarah realized she made her too powerful and couldn’t have someone clearly beating rhys, and b) she discovered her breeding kink and decided to make it everyone else’s problem. in my mind, feyre is free of all them, including the demon child, gallivanting across the world with her bestie, lucien. thank you, have a great day/night, as well♥️♥️

[doodlegirl1998]

Thinking on the whole "Aldera allowed BK to bully Izu" and how Inko is so...uncaring for such fact may be accidental or not...

There are others schools out there...why Izu had to stay in Aldera? Legit. Why? If Inko is so poor she cant afford a new school it would be smth but...the fact she doesnt even try, she is so out of reality...its concerning.

Also...Aldera has (or should have )parents meetings(parents and teachers meeting one another) are the teachers the best actors in the world to convice Inko "your son happy here" or she just dont care?

Another thing: BK is from a rich family...he could have gone to a big school but stay on Aldera. Reason? "To make his hero origin story look good"

1) why? Where this idea comes from? Is AM from a poor background and reach stardom from day to night?

2) does others heroes care for "proper hero background"?

Inko is a bad mom in canon...ironically, bashing fics got it wrong. She doesnt light cigars on her son nor let him starve...she just...do nothing.

Hi @mikeellee 👋,

This. This is where I see Hori's lack of exploration into Izuku's childhood to be a massive problem. Inko is never seen to try literally anything to prevent Izuku's bullying.

A common defense I hear of her is that, "Izuku hid it from her so she had no idea" and while that may be the case later let me ask; does anyone seriously think a four year old can hide being hurt constantly? Let alone being exploded?

So there is two options here:

She could have been too poor to change Izuku's schools / move homes. If this is case - Explore that HORI! That could have been common ground for IzuOcha to bond over!! Not only that but it would have gave Inko a sympathetic reason why she didn't go this route. Hori should have coupled this with a few brief shots of her in the manga showing her trying to speak with teacher, Mitsuki etc... That could have shown a sympathetic and good prominent mother figure.

She saw Izuku being hurt for being quirkless and viewed his suffering as inevitable so did not try to do anything to prevent what he was going through. This is the option that makes Inko look the worst - but also lines the most up with canon in my view. There's metas out there saying that, despite the Midoriya's living in an apartment, they are rich / well off by the interior Hori designs for them (maybe not as much as Bkg but comfortable.) So no monetary boundary to moving. There's the fact that Inko is quick to say "I'm sorry Izuku" and cry on him when he's being diagnosed as quirkless which... It feels like Inko is now expecting the worst for him/ Izuku's future in this diagnosis - which would explain her inaction. (Note - she only tries to protect him after Izu gets a quirk too, by threatening to take him out UA, which lines up with this theory.)

With the Bakugou part - that's just Bakugou's stupidity and ego coming out full swing.

Logically speaking, it would make more sense to go to be best school - rather than whatever Aldera is - to maximise the chances of getting in UA. But Baku is so up his own ass he believes he is innately the best.

First, who lets their child pull this sort of shit when they genuinely want the best for them? Why doesn't Mitsuki sit Bkg down and tell him he's being an idiot? She's done it before. And should do it here.

Second, I WISH this bit him in the ass. I wish he got lower down the scoreboard then third on the term rankings. Or even, failed the entrance exam, got expelled by expellzawa - just anything! Because then it would show Bkg is his own worst enemy.

Third, maybe Baku pulled this deliberately because he knew Aldera would let him get away with being a POS. If Bkg went to a top school do you think they would let him get away with being an abusive turd? Short answer no. If they expelled him - game over for his dream of heroism too. Baku probably knew Aldera would likely fudge things for him to help him get in UA to make themselves look good.

We don't know enough about AM in canon but I do presume that he was from a poorer background due to this view of Bkg's otherwise Bakuboo would not have cared about being seen as "coming from poverty."

TLDR - Inko sits by and does nothing for her son while he was quirkless and being severely bullied because Hori writes her poorly. But there's no nice implication as to why this is the case.

Bakugou is an arrogant idiot who is his own worst enemy - or would be if Hori making him the strongest plot armour all the time.

And AM needs his origins explored - where's the underdog rising to be the number one hero origin story, Hori?